


Closing the distance

by Courageous_Cat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Action, Anal Sex, Angst, Family, Loss, M/M, Post-Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Rimming, Romance, Social Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27010357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courageous_Cat/pseuds/Courageous_Cat
Summary: The summer before his son’s fifth year, the Potters invite Draco and Scorpius to a ‘post-escapade get together’. Draco, intrigued, and feeling stuck between two worlds, decides to reach further across the gulf between them. When Draco develops feelings for Harry that he thinks couldn’t possibly be reciprocated, he throws himself into the world of dating. But is Harry’s marriage as happy as it seems? Meanwhile, as the wizarding world continues to change, and with the decline in traditional influence since the war ended, there are bound to be events that keep things interesting!
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that I came up with in 2016, after reading The Cursed Child and loving it. Though I've had it in my mind, I haven't written it until now, and I'm so happy to get it out there!

July before Scorpius’ fifth year:

Draco and Scorpius sat on the balcony of their suite, enjoying a leisurely breakfast. At 15 years old, his son is full of energy and has been leading the pace of their summer holiday. But this morning, Draco insisted that they sit back for once, and take in the view of the Spanish waterfront.

He couldn’t be prouder of his son, who did no less than save the wizarding world. Draco’s heart ached at remembering though – that he almost died of the killing curse, and was subjected to the torture of the crutiatus curse. He didn’t know about this until they were both home and safe. If that evil witch had been in his presence when he found out, he’s sure he would have killed her.

He lets the sound of the waves calm him - slowly. He reflects on how happy he is for Scorpius. His popularity at school took a good turn after recent events. Not only did the rumors stop, but he was considered quite the hero – by his classmates and the wizarding world alike. His quirkiness accepted as largely endearing by some as well. 

Draco has also benefitted. At worst, the looks he gets from others only slightly ring of distaste, mixed with gratefulness. At best, well, he’s received some heartfelt pats on the back while going about his day, too. That, is a thing he’s not used to, but he certainly liked it. 

He takes some deep breaths as the breeze comes their way. Scorpius has taken to balancing his utensils in precarious ways. He notices an owl riding a gust strait to him, bringing a letter. He opens it immediately, ready to break his ruminations. 

It reads:

Draco, Scorpius,

With the kids home for the summer, we’re having a bit of a post-escapade get together. Just the Potters and Granger-Weasleys for you to worry about. When would be good for you? Bring some treats back with you from holiday, would you?

Harry, Ginny, Albus, James and Lily

Draco passes the letter to Scorpius for him to read. He could plainly see the effort on their part to make them comfortable accepting the invitation. Rather, to make Draco comfortable with it. Scorpius would go in a heartbeat regardless – Albus is his best friend after all. 

“I wonder if Rose will be there”, says Scorpius excitedly. 

“Ah, Rose Granger-Weasley”, Draco replies. He knows how Scorpius was turned down by her, but remains optimistic (a very mature view) – and another reason that Scorpius will want to attend. 

Then, there are his own reasons…The possibility of friendships he never thought he would have, but has always wanted. They might have butted heads a great deal in these past months, but they also found some common ground. And the acceptance he found in them so far has been enough for Draco to want more of that feeling. 

And so he reaches further across the gulf between two worlds. He’s been stuck uncomfortably in the middle anyway. At least there are people, including his son, on the other side.

Of course he’ll go. He found himself smiling and reaching for a quill. 

Scorpius noticed and asked with enthusiasm, “We’re going, then?” 

~

Two weeks later, at the Potter house:

Draco and Scorpius arrived, treats in hand, and they were ushered in pleasantly by Harry and Ginny. Not one to ignore the awkwardness of the situation, Draco said in greeting – after a pointed look around the place, “I see your kitchen is as lovely as ever”. He followed the declaration with a smile meant to show that he didn’t mean ill by bring up their kitchen – which he had wrecked in a fight with Harry the last time he was in their home. 

Harry laughed, first out of surprise and then genuine mirth. “No thanks to you!” It was fun to fight him, Draco remembered, despite the worry he was feeling for Scorpius at the time – and maybe because of it. “Did you know, Scorpius, that you dad barged into our house and blew up our kitchen?” he asked in good humor.

A while later, Draco was sat with the other adults outside at the patio table in their backyard, while the children were together under a tree eating junk food and talking. The conversation fell on their children, which is what they have the most in common after all. 

After joking about Rose being such a heartbreaker, Hermione asks, “Has Scorpius been getting on alright, Draco?”

“You can see for yourself, he really is as happy as he looks.” 

As everyone looks on, in the direction of the teenager tree, Scorpius is shoving Albus over from his cross-legged position and they’re both laughing their heads off. Rose has her back to them, and has her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh at them even as she’s attempting to hold a conversation with Lily. James and Hugo just roll their eyes from where they’re sitting further from the rest. 

“Of course, he’s had a lot to take in”, Draco continues. “It’s like he aged five years in five days.” After a beat, he added, “He was forced into having to make the choice to die to save us all. And, I am, so proud of him. But, I grieve for him too.” The fact that Harry had to make the choice to die at the age of 18 and that Harry’s son made the same choice as Scorpius was not lost on Draco, and, after a moment he looked at Harry sidelong. He found recognition there. He next looked to Ginny and found the same, though less intense and kinder. 

Ginny replies, “I’m sorry that they went through what they did, too. But I’m so happy that they’re moving forward so well.”

“I’m sorry to spoil the party-going mood”, Draco said next with forced levity. “I guess I’m still no good with small talk.”

“No, no, that’s completely expected at a saving-the-world party”, Ron interjects as if he’s an expert of such things (and maybe he is) to the table at large, and everyone laughs. “Some chitchat…, some garden games…., some serious business…, some jokes, and there you are.”

~

Draco found himself in attendance of a Ministry ceremony is his honor. Imagine that. Well, of course it was for all involved. And for Scorpius and Albus most of all. They were grinning ear to ear. But the other children were quickly bored. And Draco, he took full advantage of the continued trend of tolerance toward his presence and spoke with the officials and other present guests - if not smoothly, then at least not too awkwardly. It was easy to not be so awkward when one was being complimented. 

It left him giddy, and when things were winding down he accepted Harry’s offer of playing darts. He whispered his thanks to the blond after his agreement, since he wanted to avoid talking to some of the remaining guests, while staying behind for Albus’ sake. Ginny, James, and Lily, and the Granger-Weasley’s were gone by now. He was finding Harry’s forthright way of talking more and more refreshing all the time, now that he wasn’t at odds with the words that he said. In this instance, it made him feel like he was part of a fun little conspiracy with him. 

When Harry seemed to notice someone coming over to them, intent to talk, he cheered loudly at his throw, which was mediocre at best, and put an arm on Draco’s shoulder. “I’d like to see you beat that, Draco!” he said emphatically, with a smile on his lips. And Draco found himself taken with that smile, especially when it was aimed at him. 

“Easily,” he answered, with mock-haughtiness that made Harry laugh. And Draco was even more taken than before, because the laugh was completely genuine. It made him smile, and then make an absolutely terrible shot – all the way at the outermost edge of the board. Harry laughed again, harder this time, and Draco didn’t really mind that he had missed. 

The almost-interloper walked away again, due to Harry’s obvious distraction. 

They played a little longer, until Harry really did have to drop off Albus and get back to work. “Thanks for playing. I really did have fun,” Harry told him. 

“Me too.” And Draco remember something that he told Harry once. ‘Sometimes, we just need someone to play exploding snap with.’ He had been talking about the boys, hoping Harry would see reason and let them be friends. But the truth of it in this situation suddenly hit him hard. “It’s been too long since I just had some fun, myself,” he told him. Draco couldn’t be sure, but he thought maybe Harry got the right idea. He also thought that this simple thing has soothed his loneliness some. 

~

He was invited to a Quidditch game – between the Falcons and the Cannons. And Draco, perhaps against his better judgement, agreed to be a loose part of the Potter/Granger-Weasley/Weasley party. It’s not as though he had any other offers. And once again, Scorpius was attached at the hip to a good portion of them. 

They arrived early to make a day of it. Draco set up his generously sized tent next to the Potter tent, though some distance away since their crowd tends to gaggle and he didn’t want to be encroached on. The caution was mutual, of course, when it came to the Weasleys, who were set up in scatters on the other side of the Potters. A nonverbal agreement quickly came into play that neither side would bother the other. And Harry, either oblivious to this or pointedly ignoring it, frequently passed among them all without note. The others that he would also call his friends did the same, but at least acknowledged it all in their expressions one way or another. 

Scorpius bounded off to the Potter tent right away, but then came back to Draco’s tent after a while, with Albus, who complained about all the raucous activity. Perhaps now it wasn’t so much of a Malfoy tent, as a Slitherin one. It was subdued and peaceful in comparison. And much preferred overall. 

Then the children started a pickup game of an abridged form of Quidditch, even Albus, thought it took him a moment to decide. 

Harry came into his tent a minute later. “You can come to our tent for a bit if you like,” he started. Then, “Albus is playing too, can you believe it?” 

“I can. It’s a casual game,” Draco said. 

“Makes sense, I suppose,” Harry said, after a moment. Then, “There’s a lot, I still don’t get about him. But you seem to.” 

“Not always, I’m sure. But yes, I understand the feeling of the pressure to succeed. Though, Albus handles it quite admirably by not getting sucked into it.”

“I understand that feeling, too,” Harry argued, in what Draco thought was an understatement. But he was missing the point.

“I meant in the sense of family.”

“I don’t pressure him.”

“Not explicitly, no. But your reputation does that for you.” Harry looked like he might disagree, but then seemed less sure. “And, I understand that he’s quite thoughtful, in a way that you’re not used to.”

“I’m not very thoughtful, huh?” Harry asked ruefully. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt then, and not assume you just called our lot dumb.”

Draco laughed, a little helplessly. “That’s not what I meant. But given our history, I can understand why you might think it was. What I did mean is that where you might learn best from doing, trying things, winning or losing, – he would consider the options and run them all in his head first, including the downsides to loosing – like disappointing family.”

Harry looked back at him, stung, but with a sense of realization and appreciation as well. It inspired in Draco some mixed emotions in turn. Glad to lend insight, but apprehensive that it’s too much at this early stage of friendship, and that Harry might pull away. “And, is that what you’re like?” Draco relaxed from his apprehension, and found himself pleased Harry would ask something that would let him know him a little better. 

“Yes, to a great extent. It doesn’t mean I wind up making the right decisions, though.” Then he turned thoughtful himself for a moment and said, “Albus, he may like a calmer hobby. Learning an instrument or something.”

Harry’s face lit up. “That sound like it’s worth a try.”

“I could have him try the piano the next time he’s at the manor.”

“You play?”

“I do, since childhood.” 

“Well then, thanks Draco.” 

Just then, the sound of Scorpius shouting in strangled excitement permeated the tent. And his call of, “There’s no stopping me when I’m fired up, Hugo!” Earning him uproarious laughs from the lookers on, and a smile from Harry. Draco thought that even with Scorpius’ newly earned popularity he could still do with improving the silly quality of his voice. But Draco knew that there was really nothing for it. And that, in the end, it was that genuineness about him that the others found so appealing. Draco could do with more genuineness himself. And he thought he has been, slowly, doing just that. 

“There are things I still don’t get about Scorpius either,” Draco took the opportunity to say, some bewilderment in his voice. “But he’s a brilliant kid.” 

Harry smiled at him again, more softly now. Then teasingly, “Look at you using muggle words like ‘kid’.” Draco rolled his eyes. The wizarding world has changed dramatically since they were children. In the aftermath of the war, a sort of muggleborn renaissance was born. A great influx of spells inspired from the muggle world became common (such as health-tracking spells and instant messages), and the culture itself changed, including language in a way that was unavoidable. Only the twelve houses resisted it, and not in a unified way. Many of the younger members of those houses were more likely to have changed with the times, but it’s permeated beyond age and status. There were many stalwarts to the old ways, to be sure, including his mother, but it didn’t stop the wave of change. 

“It’s common language,” Draco said simply. 

“Of course,” Harry allowed, undeniably amused. “But seriously,” he went on, “Scorpius is - simply, always himself. He has no airs about him, and he has nothing to hide, because he’s genuinely a good person. And so enthusiastic! Reminds me of Ron a bit actually.”

“Please don’t say that?” Draco asked with exaggerated exasperation. And Harry knew (or re-knew) him well enough by now to not take offense for Ron’s sake, and laughed. Draco and Ron simply got along best through teasing. 

“I think you’re doing fine with understanding him,” Harry said next. “Just be accepting, as you have been. And don’t act embarrassed on his behalf, he can tell when you do that.”

Draco startled at that. Does he do that? Yes, often enough, actually, he decided on reflection. And he’s noticed the hurt that sometimes passes his son’s features in response. He really does need to give it up. “You’re right,” Draco declared. “I don’t want to do that to him.” 

“Hey, this has been a pretty good fathering-advice-session. We should pick it up again sometime - when the need arises. I’m sure something vexing will come up.” 

Draco found himself smiling. “Agreed.”

“For now, let’s join in with rest, shall we?” 

The adults wound up playing for a bit too, along with the kids, and Draco and Harry wound up on the same team for the first time (no one playing their normal positions!) - deciding it was best not to face off in opposing positions quite yet. 

It was a great time. 

The only down moment for the day was when Draco ran into Theodore Nott, Scorpius and Albus directly behind him, chatting, as they ascended the stairs to their seats. Yes, well, his conviction didn’t stick after all. He was perfectly free to be there. At least Harry and rest were a little ways back in the bustle – or else the run-in could become more incendiary that necessary. Theodore leaned close and asked him conspiratorially, low enough so the children didn’t hear, whether Draco was up to something with hanging about with the Potters and Weasleys. 

Draco neutrally replied that there was no ploy, and hoped that Nott would leave it at that, even if it meant that he took it as a tongue-in-cheek denial. He had no such luck. Nott’s face twisted as he said, in an elevated voice, “So, you’re actually mingling with the likes of them? You know what that makes you, don’t you Malfoy?” A deep flash of anger shot through Draco at Nott saying such a thing in earshot of the kids. 

“I suspect I know to what you’re referring, but I advise you not to make such utterances, lest any passers-by think ill of you for it, Theodore.” Nott had enough sense not to reply, though he still seethed. The word ‘blood traitor’ in his face, even if he didn’t say it aloud. Draco moved on swiftly, listening intently to make sure the children followed, his lips pulled down in a small frown and forbidding expression. 

‘Well isn’t that refreshing?’ he thought sarcastically. He hasn’t been accosted in a while. Well, he supposed it was inevitable given his choice of company. And Nott had a particular and recent grudge to bear, of course. It was Harry that arrested him for making the time-turners – which he had made for Draco’s father. If only Nott knew that Draco used the other time-turner right along with Harry when they needed it, and Harry did nothing against him for it afterward (and how could he, really?). He didn’t even confiscate it. ‘Nott would be completely infuriated’, he thought with dark glee. 

There was no avoiding all ire no matter what he did anyway. And if he was going to piss someone off, it may as well be a stubborn, vile git like Nott. 

As soon as they got to their seats, he told Scorpius and Albus. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, boys. It comes with the territory I’m afraid.” 

He could see the understanding in their eyes. They knew what just happened under the veiled language. Barely veiled in Nott’s case. “We get it, Father. Don’t worry about us,” Scorpius replied. 

“What was that?” Harry asked, now sitting down on Albus’ other side, just catching up. Ginny sat down next to Harry right after and listened closely. Draco told them all that was said, including what the boys didn’t hear the first time. He thought it was better they understand the world around them and not shelter them from it more than they need. 

“Welcome to the Club,” Harry said back brightly, and shook his hand, and Draco laughed and shook it. It dispelled some of the anger still roiling through him. Ginny continued the joke and shook his hand welcomingly in turn. “We meet monthly at the pub to scheme on how to make purebloods uncomfortable. See you there!” she said. Everyone laughed. And Draco was warmed by their welcome. 

~

Draco was reading the paper one evening, alone in his study, when surprisingly, Harry came on in a fire-call. 

“Draco?”

“Harry.” He came over and sat in front of the fireplace. “What brings you on?”

“It’s Albus, he...Do you have a few minutes? I’d like to ask your advice on something.”

Draco was done with his work for the day and had no problem with it. “Come on through,” he invited. 

“Thanks,” he said, and a few moments later he was coming out of the fireplace and dusting off his robes. He was dressed casually in muggle clothes. Though Draco was not one for casual attire, and was in one of his fine robes, he didn’t mind it. It was very…Harry, after all. 

“Would you like a drink?” Draco offered, “I was just about to pour myself some firewhiskey.”

“On a work night?” he asked, surprised. 

Draco wondered if there was a cultural difference causing some confusion, so he elaborated. “A finger or two, sipped slowly of course,” Draco replied. “It’s not any more to drink than a glass or two of wine.”

“Oh, I’ve never had it that way. I usually just, you know,” he started, and mimed slinging a whole glass into his mouth. 

“Then try this,” Draco insisted. “And I would be highly offended if you drank it that way,” he half-teased with a smirk on his face. 

“If you insist,” Harry said, laughing a little. Draco handed him a glass and sat down. Then motioned for Harry to do the same in an adjacent chair. 

Draco took a sip of his drink, and closed his eyes to relish in the strong, smooth taste and sharp sting on his tongue. 

Harry took a sip next, in a similar manner, likely in imitation. His eyes went wide, and his face got a bit pink. His face gradually calmed into something considering. “That tastes better than any firewhiskey I ever had. Still has a kick though!”

“It’s my favorite one, though I don’t go to it very often.”

“Is it expensive then?” he guessed.

Draco nodded. 

“I suppose I won’t be getting it for myself then,” he said. Draco didn’t see why not, given the Potter fortune, but didn’t say so. This friendship between was still quite delicate, and he knew that Harry didn’t put much stock in the finer things. 

What did that say about Draco that he found him so fascinating regardless? And he was fascinated – the simple boyhood dream to have a hero for a friend long gone. In its place was a genuine curiously about who the real Harry Potter was, and an ever growing admiration for what he found. “Are you sure it’s alright then?” Harry asked, the idea of it being expensive making him uncomfortable. 

“I reserve it for my better moods, and for good company,” Draco answered. It was the right thing to say, he was relieved to see. Harry relaxed some, and then looked cutely flustered at the compliment. A warm feeling permeated Draco’s chest. “So what’s the trouble with Albus?” Draco asked, mood even better than before. 

“Oh, right. Well,” Harry bit hip lower lip, and then continued, “He’s starting to feel left behind by Scorpius a bit, with all his Quidditch practice. And then I remember how you suggested he needed his own hobby. I was hoping give him a few suggestions to look into, but I don’t have many ideas. An instrument is a good one, like you’ve said.” 

“What else have to come up with?” 

“Uh, just stuff that I would find boring, like the alchemist club. It combines a bunch of other subjects – potions and transfiguration and the like. He’s really good at those subjects.”

“You know I spend my time as an alchemical researcher, don’t you?” Draco asked, amused, sure that he didn’t know that by the way he was explaining it to him.

“What? No I…didn’t actually. Sorry, I’m sure you don’t find it boring at all,” he apologized. 

“It’s tremendously exciting and rewarding, though not to the onlooker I’m sure,” he allowed. 

“Is it going well?”

“I’ve invented a few things myself. Approved by the Ministry for use and everything.” 

“Really? That’s impressive, Draco!” And now Draco was the one feeling flustered. “What do they do?”

“The first is a curative that negates the effects of a sleeping curse.”

“Like Sleeping Beauty!” Harry piped up.

“Well yes, but in that case the cure was part of the curse…I’m surprised you know of it, it was so long ago, and a bit dry.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and then yelled in surprise, “That was real?!”

“Well they wouldn’t teach something in magical history class that wasn’t true. Except you called it by what children call it…so I’m not sure how you heard of it at this point.”

Harry looked like he was about to answer, and then stopped. Instead, he said, “What made you think of it?” 

“I was…actually working on breaking Astoria’s curse.” Harry’s face turned sympathetic. “But it’s much more complicated than a sleeping curse, and I couldn’t do it. Tiredness was a part of it during the last few years, and so was part of my research. It…did give her her energy back, though,” he said with pride. 

“That’s wonderful, Draco.”

Not wanting to linger on the sad twinge of loss the subject gave him, he moved on. “And the second lets you find someone that you cast the spell on beforehand, wherever they are. And the subject has a part in the spell as well, so that it can’t be used for nefarious purposes.” 

“We’ve used that one!” Harry exclaimed. “In my department.”

Draco told him some of the details of how it works, failing to hide his enthusiasm. Harry gave him an encouraging look, and then the blond gave up trying to hide it, leaning into that enthusiasm. He could see Harry’s face opening up as he talked.

“Well, when you put it all like that, it sounds like it could be exciting to Albus as well,” he said with a smile. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to tell Albus that he should talk with you about it.”

“Yes, of course I’ll speak with him,” Draco answered. 

Kid-crisis out of the way, the two sipped their drinks into the resulting silence, sitting back now. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It held the shared moment between them, still. 

When Harry was done with his drink, he said, hitting his knee and getting up, “I’d best be off. Early start at the office tomorrow. Thanks for this, Draco, really.” 

“You’re welcome,” he said sincerely, getting up as well. “Goodnight, Harry.” Draco stuck out his hand. 

“Goodnight, Draco,” Harry replied, grasping his hand back readily. 

And he was off. 

Draco sat down again, and let the unexpected visit wash over him. It left him feeling quite giddy. Harry was turning into a real friend. That warmth came back to his chest at the thought of it. He savored in it, and then he wondered at that warmth. 

It was sometimes fuzzy, that line between friendly feelings and those of attraction. It wasn’t just his previous loneliness that made him feel it all so keenly though. It was in Harry’s smile, his laugh, and his kind words. That feeling grew as he put it in the correct category in his head. 

Shit. He’s fallen for Harry Potter. The very much married, and unavailable, Harry Potter.

And when he drudged up the past in his mind, the idea became even more tumultuous to think of. One-time rivals. One-time enemies. One-time crush. It actually wasn’t the first time he’s felt this way about him. But the gulf between them was so much bigger then than it is now. If he could fool himself into ignoring all that, and hold onto their newfound closeness, the gulf was just small enough now to tease him with the idea of it. Make him want it, however impossible it still was. 

Draco wondered if Harry liked wizards.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, a Wednesday, Draco was invited to a night at the pub for that coming Saturday, with Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron. Apparently, there was truth to Ginny’s statement of occasional ‘meetings’ at the pub, but it was all for fun of course. 

Draco accepted gratefully, though with a new seed of doubt to work through. How should he handle his newly understood feelings for Harry? He obviously couldn’t act on it. So should be pretend those feeling aren’t there? That could prove difficult. Draco was not a very good actor, and it would ruin the new and genuine thing between them all for him to start pretending in any sense. Perhaps he can continue to show his appreciation for Harry in an honest way, and they all just take him for how he is? That sounded possible…since it was them. He put the last into practice that Saturday. 

And that left only the more mundane worry for him to account for: how to be himself when showing his true self wasn’t a common thing for him to do in the first place. High born society was full of masks and veiled meaning - and the knowledge that you were really on your own even among friends. This lot prized openness and honestly and true support over everything else. Something he’s found so profoundly refreshing after the balancing act that has been his life up until this point. So he would – act naturally – somehow. 

~

Draco was the last to arrive, and they all greeted him warmly at the table. A firewhisky was already waiting for him there, thanks to Harry. And he made sure to tease the blond that it was the cheap stuff. “It will have to do then,” Draco replied back, mock-snootily, scrunching his nose like it’s an affront to his senses, followed by a grin, making the others laugh. 

“Did you know Draco researches alchemy?” Harry prompted. 

“Of course,” Hermione answered, listed off his two inventions, and offering her admiration. The others indicated they didn’t know. 

“And I was thinking, Ron, your shop has come up with some very clever things. Couldn’t some of them be considered alchemy?”

Draco and Ron looked at each other, both uncomfortable at being compared. Honestly, the blond thought it was like comparing a philosopher with a witch or wizard that’s good at winning arguments in the pub. But he knew that Harry was trying to get them to connect with common interests. And he also knew there was no way to express his opinion without sounding supremely arrogant. Ron looked a bit self-conscious. 

“What are you working on, then?” Draco asked Ron. 

And Ron perked up a bit and told him, eyeing everyone else as well as he talked, “Well, I’ve got this ideas for a spell that temporarily turns all spells cast by the subject into a rain of toads! Imagine a few hundred toads filling the room and hopping about every time some poor witch or wizard tries anything!” Everyone laughed at the idea, and Draco turned it over in his mind. 

“Interesting,” Draco said, thinking, once everyone has calmed down. “How do you divert their own magic?”

“Well, I need to put a bit of a stopper on it, at least for the few seconds it takes to cast. That’s the trickiest part, actually. Don’t want to cause magical damage or anything.”

“I’m working on something that might heal magical damage – at least from overexertion, I’m not sure about anything more serious, and I wonder if you focused on relaxing their magic, like I’m looking at, if it will work better.” 

Ron considered this, and his eyes lit up after a few moments. From there, they managed to have a two minute conversation about it. And Draco had to admit that the kinds of things Ron was doing was rather advanced. 

They all talked a while longer, and about an hour in, Draco was feeling more or less comfortable. And so he didn’t catch himself as he idly looked too long at Harry and Ginny’s clasped hands that were resting on the tabletop. 

“So, do you think you might try dating eventually?” Hermione asked him, taking Draco’s look as a different sort of wistfulness that what it actually was. 

“I think…I might be about ready to, yes,” Draco told her, somehow straight-faced. Then his mind wandered a moment, thinking on what dating really meant. “It’s still difficult to think about moving on. And her loss still hurts, of course.” Draco looked around the table and saw nothing but sympathy and acceptance. “But, despite that, it’s lonely without anyone to spend my days with.”

“The pain must be terrible, Draco, and I’m sorry that you lost her,” Ginny told him, and the others echoed the sentiment, filling Draco up. 

“Thank you, everyone,” he said, effected, making the others smile at each other. “I would rather not dwell right now, though. I would rather talk about the future.”

“So then, what’s your type?” Ron piped up, taking his cue. “Maybe we know someone we can introduce you to.” 

Draco thought about it, and struggled not to think of Harry too specifically. “I’m not entirely sure at the moment. It’s hard to know where to start, to be honest. The high born understand where I’m coming from in some ways, but I have no friends among them. Either they hate me for denouncing the past, or they hate me for having been a part of it in the first place.”

“Ok, dead end there then - what else?” Harry prompted. 

“I’m a researcher – perhaps an academic type would suit me?” Draco was just thinking aloud, not sure himself at all.

“Oh,” Hermione exclaimed, “There’s a lovely witch in the ministry research wing, Melanie Armand. Smart, kind, and a sharp tongue when she needs it – a good match I think.” The idea piqued the blond’s interest, but only moderately. She sounded far from the type he had a hang-up about right now. 

“Maybe,” he allowed. 

“Well, what’s missing?” Hermione prompted. 

Well, here’s one way to break the ice, Draco thought. “To be honest, I think I’m set on swinging the pendulum in the other direction,” and seeing that it didn’t click for them yet, he finished, “A wizard, I mean.” That took all at the table by surprise, but they recovered quickly, the champions of inclusion that they were. He also knew they had some practice with these sorts of revelations, with Ron’s brother Charlie, and their friend Luna. 

Hermione, though, for once, didn’t know what to say. At least for a moment, and then, to Draco’s surprise she asked, “So, have you dated a wizard before?” 

“Not properly. I married Astoria not long after school ended. There was that bit of a thing with Blaise for a while though…” 

“What?” Ginny asked emphatically, and it was like she was back in Hogwarts hearing tasty gossip – and maybe it was good gossip when you weren’t the focus of it. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not really,” he rebuffed gently. 

And she reined herself in, catching herself. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

“Yes, you do,” Ron corrected. 

Ginny rolled eyes, and then nudged Harry with an elbow, and they talked with their eyes in a secret married-couple language that had something to do with Ginny wanting Harry to speak up about something, and Harry disagreeing – and then Ginny gave it up. 

“What was that about?” Ron asked. 

“Now who’s prying,” Ginny retorted. 

“Draco,” Hermione called calmly to get his attention, and then said to get the conversation back on track, “I’ll keep an eye out for people to introduce you to, but in the meantime, I can still introduce you to Melanie if you decide it’s worth a try. Really, it wouldn’t hurt to get your feet wet, you know?”

That made some sense to Draco. Get his feet wet. “You’re right, Hermione, please, introduce us.” And Hermione looked supremely happy at his acceptance of her advice. 

The rest of the night was full of laughs and teasing. And Draco felt light. 

And if Draco’s hand stayed on Harry’s shoulder a little too long as they said goodnight, he didn’t seem to mind it. 

~

Draco stepped inside the singles bar, full of wizards and witches of all sorts looking to meet new people.   
He scanned the crowd, hoping to find a spot where wizards were talking with wizards. And he found it, against the right wall, opposite the bar. 

Draco had gone on that date with the witch Melanie. Though they got along talking about their work, they found they had no romantic chemistry and ended it there at the end of the night. They promised to keep in touch, however, as friends and kindred spirits in the name of magical discovery. 

Surprisingly, she offered him a job in the research wing of the ministry, which Draco politely declined. He valued his own freedom immensely for one, and also, the thought of working for the ministry left a bad taste in his mouth. Instead, he promised he would share his current project with her once it was completed, and she promised the same - and they also promised to pass along any more research that might be interest to the other (they had rattled off quite a few things that night that Draco for one would definitely be reviewing more closely). 

That left him with no prospects yet again. And he gained an additional problem. The more he spent time with Harry, the more he liked him. He got bolder in his compliments (not just to Harry, to make it more natural). He also got friendlier in his touches – a hand on Harry’s arm as they talked, a lean on him in mock-dejection during a story. Harry seemed to like the gestures, it made his smiles wider and laughs louder. And he hoped they would all just attribute it as a personality trait of Draco’s with a laugh – and that is indeed how they took it. 

And Harry started doing it back as they found their dynamic. But while that made Draco giddy at first, over time it just made him feel worse. Perhaps teased by these half-flirtations that made him even lonelier than before. Draco longed for a real connection with someone. 

And then, in one last sanity-check this morning, he let himself imagine, not for the first time, what it might be like to kiss Harry. They might have been leaning close, laughing at something, Draco’s arm on his shoulder, and then they would feel that tug of affection, and they would both lean in, give it moment for the connection to build, and Draco would close the distance and kiss him softly. Over and over. And the kiss would deepen. And then his thoughts moved them to the bedroom. And he thought of what it might be like to have sex with him. Move in him, make him writhe in pleasure. 

He cut himself off. These thoughts…proved his point, but were ultimately unhealthy, because he could not be with Harry. And probably for even more reasons than that he was married. 

And so he came here, to the singles bar that he’d heard of but never come to before. The place was relatively new, and had a modern look to it – all straight lines and a mix of black and muted color. He walked casually yet purposefully over to the middle of the bar and got his drink, red wine, then over to the preferred section he spotted before. There were scattered tables, some with chairs for sitting and others without for standing around. 

Draco walked up to an empty standing table and took everything in at a closer range. Some of those talking appeared to be friends looking about the place for potential connections. Others were flirting – talking and smiling and giving meaningful looks. 

A group of three came over to him, and stood around the table. “First time here?” the one in the middle, directly across for Draco, asked in a friendly but probing way. 

“Yes, I haven’t been single in some time,” Draco told him. 

“Oh?” he answered, intrigued, “what’s your type?”

“I don’t really know, I think I’ll need to talk around a bit, get a feel for things.” 

“Just getting out a relationship?” the wizard on Draco’s left asked. 

Draco was worried having been married until now would make him seem unappealing to talk to, so he just said, “Yes, it was a long relationship.” 

“Wait, aren’t you…Draco Malfoy?” said the third suddenly in recognition. He had been afraid of this as well. 

“I am,” he said neutrally, hoping they wouldn’t turn against him. 

“There’s a few here that may be your style,” he offered. Draco could image that their blood heritage or wealth was a large part of what he meant by his ‘style’. 

“I don’t believe I know what my style is,” he insisted. 

“Just trying to help. Shall I point them out to you?” 

“Please,” he replied, because he really did wonder who might be here that he knew. The first he didn’t recognize. The second was – “Blaise Zabini,” Draco said out loud in surprise, and the helpful man laughed. 

“Is that a bullseye then?” he asked, curious. 

“He’s an old friend at the very least – I need to talk to him,” he explained. “Thank you all,” he said, and once they gave their amused replies, set off. 

Blaise was sitting in a booth alone, idly looking at his drink as he stirred it, as Draco walked up to him. He thought Blaise had been talking to someone before, but he must have gotten up. There was no glass at the opposite seat to show that it was taken. 

“Blaise Zabini,” he greeted. 

Blaise’s eyes widened when he turned and looked at him. “Draco Malfoy! It’s been ages.”

“When did you get into the country?” Draco asked. Blaise hadn’t returned to England since the end of the war as far as Draco knew. He and his mother had wanted no part of the war in the first place, and were quick to leave and avoid undue blame when it was over. 

The war had also been what ended things between them. They weren’t exactly together, more like friends that both helped each other figure out that they liked wizards. There had been a lot of snogging and even a bit more before Blaise ended it. And Draco completely understood why he had ended it, even back then. The blond had been getting more and more desperate to get the vanishing cabinet to work. Though he had told none of that to Blaise, he could see his distress plainly, and the way the dark surrounded him. He brought it up only lightly, and Draco resisted acknowledging it, and so Blaise had pulled away. 

Blaise offered him the seat opposite him, and he took it. “I got here three weeks ago. There was some family business that was long overdue that I couldn’t neglect any longer, and so I came.” Blaise was even more gorgeous than he remembered him. The strong lines of his jaw being the most striking, as well as the intelligent look in his eyes. 

“Well, it’s great to see you.” 

Blaise smiled. “It’s great to see you, too. I’ve read a bit about you in the papers over the years. You’re something of a hero nowadays,” he prompted. 

“’Something of’, yes,” he allowed. 

“And I heard about Astoria. I’m sorry, Draco. I didn’t know her, but from what I’ve heard of her she was a great witch.” 

“She was beyond reproach. And I loved her dearly…Enough of that, though.”

“Yes, if you’ve come here, you’re looking for more pleasant conversation, I’m sure. So my question to you is,” Blaise leaned closer to him over the table, arched a brow, and asked in a mock-smarmy voice, “What are you doing here?”

Draco laughed, “You know exactly what, you arse.” 

Blaise laughed at his reaction, “I think you meant, ‘your arse,’” he said meaningfully, waited for it to land, and then they were both laughing. Back at school they had played sometimes at over-the-top come-ons, and this fell right in line. Blaise’s delivery is a lot better than it used to be though… 

“Are you offering?” Draco asked flirtatiously right back at him, “because if so, I could think of a few good things to do with it.”

“That’s pretty good for being out of practice,” Blaise told him, laughing again. 

“I am completely out of practice. I guess you just bring out the best in me,” Draco said, and smiled in a way he hoped was enticing. “It’s also fun to banter a bit, and I suppose I got excited for the opportunity.” 

“So, you find me exciting?” Blaise asked in a deep, leading voice. Draco wasn’t sure that they were playing anymore, and it got him flustered. He went quiet for a moment, and he felt heat in his face. “You’re adorable,” Blaise told him, looking over his face with his eyes, and then smiling in appreciation. His face grew hotter. “I mean, you’re very handsome, but in this moment you’re also adorable,” he elaborated. “Do you? Find me exciting?” he pressed. 

“I do,” he replied quietly. Then regained his nerve and went on, “I feel like we never got the chance to see how things might have gone between us. And now that you’re here, and I’m here,” Draco’s heart beat hard in his chest, “I’d like to find out.” 

Blaise’s lips curled into a sultry grin. “I’d like that, Draco.” Now his heart did a flip. “I should warn you though, I’m not the relationship type. And I’ll be going back home again before too long as well.” 

“I don’t mind,” Draco answered. “I don’t know if I want a relationship myself right now. I’ve only just started dating.” 

“Well then, shall I buy you a drink?” Blaise asked. 

~

Draco and Blaise talked for a bit longer in the bar as they finished their drinks. Their talking got closer and closer as time went on, until Blaise moved to sit on Draco’s side of the booth seat. His face was so close. And when Blaise grasped his hand it felt so good that Draco couldn’t keep up with the conversation for a few moments, making Blaise smile at the effect he had on him. And when Blaise kissed him, he closed his eyes, and his whole body sizzled at the contact. Soft lips and firm pressure filled him up. 

The kissing was familiar, yet different. He knew Blaise once, but so much time has passed that he had to learn about him all over again. Blaise was confident, and excited, and leading things along. They deepened the kiss and the wizards nearby were laughing good-naturedly as they noticed. 

When the moment passed, giving them both a good sense that things were going to go well tonight, they smiled at each other, finished their drinks, and walked into the cool night air. 

“So, what do you want to do now?” Blaise asked him. “What haven’t you been up to lately that you’ve been wanting to do?” 

Draco was taken aback, in a pleasant sort of way. “I don’t even know what there is to miss anymore,” he admitted. He and Astoria would go out of course, but at the end she was too sick go anymore. And after, Draco didn’t want to go alone. 

“Would you like to go to a Lounge? Drinks, soothing music?” 

“Sounds perfect,” Draco replied. “Live music, relaxed atmosphere, just what I need.”

They spent two hours there, talking closely and quietly, and drinking, and listening to the music as they sometimes held hands. Kissing a bit more in the right moments. 

~

Later that night, Draco found himself in Blaise’s hotel room, giddy from the music, and the drinking, and being with Blaise. Blaise was someone that burned brightly when he was on, and he was burning bright the whole night he spent with Draco. It was contagious. 

“Do you dance, Draco?” he asked, flicking his wand to turn on the radio and sweeping him up in his arms to do just that. 

“When I must,” Draco replied. He’s only ever really tolerated it when it was required. 

Blaise chided him, “You should only dance when you want to.” And it made Draco pause, because Astoria used to tell him something similar. He did want to dance sometimes, when it was just him and her. It was the obligation that was a turnoff, not the dancing itself. 

“Sometimes, I do,” he insisted, letting it show in his voice that now may be one of those moments, and led them to begin. Blaise smiled and danced with him, and seeing his smile made him get into the dancing even more. 

When the song ended, and a slower one began, they slowed to a stop, and Blaise lowered his head and kissed him. The kiss heated quickly, the mood changing into something hungrier. All the enthusiasm throughout the night becoming focused like a pinpoint on this moment. They wrapped their arms around each other, kissing deeper. Draco traced the line of his jaw with his fingers and up into his close-cropped hair, enjoying the feel of it. Blaise cupped the back of his head with both his hands. 

They pulled their robes off of each other, leaving them pooled on the ground with a soft rustling sound. Then they got to untucking and unbuttoning each other’s shirts and pushing them off their shoulders and to the ground to meet their robes. 

Their hands explored the newly revealed skin. Draco could feel the lines and firmness of toned muscle beneath his fingers. He pulled away to look at him – at his tight abs and fairly muscled arms. “You’re quite fit,” he observed. 

Blaise, who had been doing his own share of staring said, “Likewise, Draco. You certainly take care of yourself.” Draco was a little self-conscious of the scar across his chest, but Blaise paid it no mind, acted as if it wasn’t there. He was significantly more self-conscious at the Dark Mark on his right forearm, faded and unmoving as it was, but Blaise seemed to be avoiding looking at it – in politeness or aversion or some mix of the two.

Then Blaise was on him again, not giving him the chance to think too much. He guided him to the bed, and Draco smiled into their kiss, knowing where this was going. They tumbled down on the bed, Draco lying on top of Blaise, their hands still roaming. Draco bit his jaw, then trailed his lips down to his neck and bit again, moved up with his tongue and sucked purposefully below his ear. He was pleased at Blaise’s gasping reaction – and that he remembered what drove Blaise wild. 

Blaise grabbed his arse and ground up into him, making him moan deep at the aching arousal it caused in him. Draco kissed him again, more urgently, and Blaise flipped their positions so that he was lying on top of him. Then he said, heated, “I know you said you wanted my arse, but I’m more than tempted by yours.” He rubbed his hand over his arse for emphasis. “What do you think?”

Draco’s mind went into overdrive in his excitement. He knew what he was asking, and had no problem with it at all. In fact, the warm tight feeling in his abdomen, and the way his half-hardness quickly shot to full attention in his trousers, showed how much he wanted what Blaise was asking for. He groaned as his mind ran with the idea of being railed by Blaise, and he said, “I think you’d better get to it,” he said hungrily. Blaise’s face lit up in feral delight, and he kissed Draco again, rougher this time, and ground his erection against Draco’s equally hard dick. 

When they parted again, Blaise thought to ask, “Have you even done it before?” with no judgement – just the same spirit of figuring things out that always was between them. 

“No, but…Astoria and I sometimes played with certain spells,” he admitted. Anatomy changing spells that let her top him, to be precise. Blaise seemed to get the idea, and smiled. 

“As for me, once I kissed a wizard – you – I never went back. Alright, that’ll make it easier.” Blaise kissed him again, and undid his trousers, which prompted Draco to do the same for him. 

Soon they were naked, and touching much more intimately. The feel of Blaise’s hand on his dick was all-consuming, and when he pumped him, he did it so well that the blond could do nothing but gasp and moan. But eventually, he somehow managed to reciprocate, and that felt good too, to please someone else – hear his stuttered breaths. 

And then Blaise guided his legs aside and prepared him, Draco eventually rocking back against his fingers, and the intimacy was so welcome that it hurt – perhaps like when your hands are too cold from being outside, and then you use a warming spell to warm up again, and that warming is painful. Yes, his very being has been so ‘cold’. 

Draco threw himself into that closeness, wrapped his arms around his shoulders - and pulling him downward and up his body, wordlessly lined them up. 

“You’re brilliant, Draco,” Blaise told him gently. And to be complimented was another balm on his being. 

“So are you,” he told him, and Blaise pushed into him with enjoyment in his eyes. They kissed again, and Blaise pumped his dick, as he thrust into him, deeper and deeper each time, filling Draco up in so many ways. And Draco was lost - threw himself into it all over again. 

It was all a heady rush of sliding hands, and firm thrusts, as they gained momentum – Draco pushing back with equal force. It was unhurried, but always gaining, until Blaise was thrusting into him roughly, sometimes sharply, making their breaths stutter. Soon Draco was moaning uncontrollably beneath him, driving Blaise to go faster – deeper, until Draco was coming hard, holding on for dear life. He came in spurts, over and over into Blaise’s hand and onto his stomach. And he kept moving inside him, until a minute later Blaise followed him, pushed into him deep and ground out his groans as he came. 

They lay next to each other as they came down. That had been spectacular. Draco had no idea when he went out that night what would be in store for him. Reconnecting with Blaise was so unexpected, but so welcome, even if it was to be for only a few weeks. It was going to be fun while it lasted, he was sure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos so far! What a great fandom.

It was three weeks later that Draco had drinks at the pub with Harry and everyone, and he knew he had been distant until then. Giving short replies to messages, and more obviously, declining on two occasions when Harry asked to talk. He had been pleasantly busy with Blaise each time, and more than a little fed up with his situation with Harry. But, he was here now. A small break - a chance to catch his breath, in their whirlwind non-relationship. 

He and Blaise spent most evenings together. It took only a few days for Draco to offer him a room in the manor while he was here – which he accepted. Though Blaise had his own room to get ready for the day and to do business at the desk in the corner, he didn’t sleep there – opting for Draco’s bed each night. 

It all left Draco rather elated, and it showed. His friends picked up on it right away. 

“Does your sunny attitude have something to do with what I read in the paper about you last week?” Ginny asked, teasing. It had taken the papers only a week to catch on, a picture of Draco and Blaise leaving a popular bar together, hand-in-hand and smiling, being the first of a few. The photographer even asked them for comment after she took it, but they both politely stated that they had no comment to make. 

He’d had to go to Headmistress McGonagall that night and ask to see his son so that he would be prepared. And he’d not shared that tidbit about himself with Scorpius – that he liked wizards – until now, so he anticipated it being a little awkward when it came to talking to him about it. Thankfully, she was understanding of the pitfalls of being thrust into the public eye, and agreed. 

“I’ll be in the Daily Prophet tomorrow, Scorpius. About my private life, that I’ve not yet shared with anyone. And I’m sure it will affect you too, and I’m sorry for that,” he started. 

“Private life,” his son repeated. “Are you dating someone?! Who?!” he asked, intrigued, folding one leg over the other and resting his head on his propped fist in interest. 

“Blaise Zabini. We went to school together, and we only just reconnected.” Draco could see the surprise begin to bloom on Scorpius’ face. “He’ll be leaving the country again soon.” Scorpius’ eyebrows rose higher and higher. Then he started laughing hysterically, which Draco didn’t take offence to – much – as it was a nervous habit of his. But it left him anxious for his reply nonetheless. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry, Father. I’m just surprised is all,” his son bust out when he could breathe. He took calming breaths for a few moments and then asked, “So, it’s not serious then? If he’s leaving soon?”

“No, it’s not that serious,” he replied, impressed at his quick recovery. “We made no comment, so I have no idea what story the paper will invent to go with the picture. I think it’s best to just let it blow over on its own.”

“Has that put him off?” Scorpius asked, concerned. Draco appreciated his thoughtfulness in asking such a question. 

“No, it doesn’t bother him,” he assured. And it was true. Blaise was no shrinking violet. They would carry on as they had been. Draco had to ask, “Does it concern you? That I’m dating a wizard?”

“What? Oh, no. Not at all,” Scorpius replied with exaggerated nonchalance, emphasizing with a swipe of his hand through the air. “I admit I never thought of it, so surprised maybe, but not concerned.”

“Glad to hear it,” he replied, genuinely relieved. Really, it wasn’t an omission on his part up until this point, so much as a matter of relevance. But he could see now that he should have brought it up earlier. He could have prevented having to have such an urgent conversation. “Then, I’ll let you get to bed, it’s quite late. I’m sorry to trouble you.” 

Scorpius got a little misty-eyed at that. “Thanks for telling me in person,” he said. He stood up, looking like he might have jumped to hug him, but didn’t. Draco got up himself and walked over to him instead. He put his arms out, a little awkwardly, though not as awkwardly as in the past, and Scorpius flung himself forward and hugged him - Draco hugging back. 

And so, now he sat with his friends, who were obviously eager to hear more. About its relevance to his sunny disposition: “Yes, very much so,” he said, smiling genuinely. Ginny smiled back, happy for him. “He won’t be in the country for much longer,” he told them, suspecting Ginny was spinning a rather more romantic version of events in her mind as they spoke. “It’s a short term sort of thing.” 

“But you hit it off with someone, so that’s great,” Hermione said. 

“Details, please?” Ginny asked, intrigued. 

Ron rolled his eyes, “I’m getting us a round,” he announced. “Harry?” he prompted, likely expecting he was saving his friend from needlessly romantic stories. 

“I’m staying,” he told him, seemingly interested himself. Ron shook his head, surprised by Harry’s response, and as he started to leave Harry added loudly, “Don’t worry, we’ll save the best parts for when you get back!” 

“Who says I’m telling stories?” Draco asked, pointing out that he never agreed to share anything else. 

“It’s your obligation, as our unattached friend,” Hermione replied, joking. “But of course, tell us to sod off if you want,” she finished with a smile. Draco smirked in appreciation at her uncharacteristically strong language. 

Well, that was as polite as they were likely to get about asking for the details, and he really was bursting to tell them at this point, so he told them the censored version of everything that’s happened with Blaise. How they found each other at the singles bar, had a great night out and really hit it off, knew there was a timer on it right away and went ahead with it, and how they’ve spent most of their free time together since. 

“Well that makes more sense that the version in the papers. How you pined over each other since your school days, never to see each other again due to the publics opinion of you for so long. Until finally, the tides have turned and you can be together!” Ginny recited emphatically. 

Draco rolled his eyes at that version of events. “If that was all true, I could have just left with him back then.”

“It doesn’t need to make sense to make print,” Harry replied good-naturedly. 

“What ever happened with Melanie?”

“Nice witch, no chemistry,” Draco replied succinctly. “She offered me a job in the Ministry though.

“Oh! Did you accept?” Hermione asked.

“No, it’s not for me,” Draco told her, just as he’d told Melanie herself. 

“Well, if you change your mind…” she let hang in the air. 

Ron came back with the drinks. “Is it safe yet?” he asked, putting the drinks down on the table.

“Oh, well, I was just about to ask Draco to take me with him next time he’s out on the town with Blaise,” Harry chimed in in a statement obviously designed to take it out of Ron, which it did – making his face redden. But it also made Draco choke terribly on his drink at the same time. It was so bad that Ginny started hitting his back to help, even while she laughed at his reaction. “Bad idea, eh?” Harry asked Draco when he stopped choking, “I can take a hint.” ‘Can you really though,’ Draco thought darkly. ‘What if I just kiss you on your stupid, pretty face.’ 

It soured Draco’s mood enough that he retaliated, decided to flirt with Harry in return – and with interest – to take it out of him instead, even though Ron had been Harry’s original target. “I mean, this is Blaise, so that’s probably fine,” Draco said as if dead-serious. “And as for me, my door’s always open for you, Harry,” he finished suggestively. Harry’s face turned pink across his cheeks, and Draco let it linger in the air even longer as he looked at him, not sure where to draw the line of how uncomfortable he wanted to make him. 

Draco winked at him and Harry got redder. Ok, he supposed he wanted to draw it out some more. 

“Oh, stop teasing him,” Hermione chided, taking pity on Harry. 

“If I must,” Draco allowed, unable to keep the hard feelings out of voice, and after a moment, deflated. Then he realized he had just been a huge prat. “I’m sorry Harry,” he apologized, no longer looking at him. “I suppose I was being a little sensitive.” 

“No, it was my mistake,” he replied, his voice a little unsteady. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I promise I wasn’t making fun of you.” Draco nodded his thanks for the apology. 

And after a few awkward moments, the conversation started flowing again. But Draco couldn’t help but linger on it. Harry still evoked such strong reactions from him – just as always. They’ve been trying hard to reverse the negative ones, the ones tied to the past – to see things from the others perspective, but they were bound to slip up. Harry had no bad intentions here, but due to their history, the blond didn’t trust it, and it really stung. And it was also due to his crush on him that that particular joke stung even more harshly.

This was…getting hard to bear, and yet, he’s grown to rely on these friends of his. He seemed, not for the first time in his life, damned no matter what he did. 

When he got home, he was happy to see that Blaise was still awake. And soon, Blaise was happily crying out as the blond took him enthusiastically. 

~

Draco joined his mother for breakfast in the dining room. He didn’t do so often these days, but he did on Sundays. And he skipped last Sunday, spending more time with Blaise, and maybe hiding from her inevitable comments on his appearance in the newspapers. Usually, a house elf would bring him his breakfast in his room or the study. 

He’s seen her here and there in passing about the manor of course, but the subject was always kept light in those circumstances. Usually concerning the comfort of their houseguest - that she soon knew was not just a houseguest. 

“Draco, Dear, It’s good to see you,” she greeted. 

“Mother, you’re looking well,” he greeted back. 

After some minutes of polite conversation, she laid into it. “It’s about time, I think, that you date eligible witches, Draco. I’ll ask around for you.”

“I’m clearly dating Blaise at the moment, Mother,” Draco replied, not dancing around things. 

“Yes, I’ve seen the papers,” she replied with some disapproval. “I meant after. He’ll be leave soon enough, won’t he?” she pressed. 

“He will,” he acknowledged. “But I don’t believe I’ll be looking to the high born for dating.”

“Because you don’t want to, or because you think they won’t wish to?” she asked carefully. 

“Both.”

“You’re recent popularity has changed things,” she assured him hopefully. That was news to Draco, but he didn’t let himself get derailed.

“That’s part of the issue, I don’t want to bother myself with what they think of me anymore.” 

“Clearly,” she said, and Draco thought that one word indicated all of her grievances against him, which could fill an entire book at this point. He knew that she loved him, and truly wanted what was best for him, but they had vastly different opinions on what that entailed. 

“You’ll have to be more specific,” he said dryly.

“You’re friendly with Harry Potter and his friends, and the Notts and their friends are making sure to bring it up as often as possible.” Draco wondered if all the houses would turn against him eventually – and how long that might take. Still, he wouldn’t be deterred from the course he was on. 

He might have made a leap in befriending them, but it was only possible in the first place because of the long-evolving, deep-seeded beliefs he’s come to. The gradual understanding of all of the machinations behind the war, including the part his parents played in it. The way Astoria healed his tattered soul. The way Scorpius was so bright and full of love. And finally, the good example of wizards and witches that he admired so much once he learned to look at them clearly. Harry and Hermione most of all. The last was most difficult for him to come around to.

Draco has come a long way, yes, but he was no saint. He still held onto a myriad of resentments that twined and weaved and cut through his good intentions: the Death Eaters’ and his parent’s influence and personal weakness back then, the Ministry’s ineptitude and willingness to cast blame, the wider wizarding world and their scathing judgements – and yes, Harry and his friends as well. For always being right when Draco had been wrong. For being personal witness to his twisted views when they themselves never wavered. 

He pulled himself back into the moment. “Our children all went through something horrible, and Albus is Scorpius’ best friend. He’s here all the time when Scorpius is home. It only makes sense.” He knew he was baiting her with his words. 

“It only makes sense if you’ve given up on your upbringing.” 

“Maybe I have,” he told her seriously. 

She sighed heavily. “I’ll just ask around,” she said again.

“Please, don’t.”

~

Draco was sipping his tea in the study, about to head to the basement to start his experiments, but wanting to say goodbye to Blaise, who was about to be off for the day. 

Before Blaise emerged from his room, though, he got a fire call. It was Harry. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure,” he asked him theatrically. 

“Eh, it’s the thing about Albus I wanted to talk to you about. I understand you’ve been busy, but it’s getting rather pressing and I could use some advice.” Draco didn’t see any harm, so he invited him through. And maybe a part of him liked the idea that maybe he would see Draco with Blaise. Either it might make him uncomfortable – as uncomfortable as Draco can get due to his feelings for Harry – or, impossibly, make him see that maybe he could like Draco in that way, too. 

Draco poured him some tea as well and had Harry sit down – adjacent to his seat as before. “So, what’s Albus up to, then?” Draco asked. 

Harry got about a minute into it (and Draco thought Harry’s worry was a little mundane to be asking him so urgently about it) when suddenly, Blaise apparated into the study. He started looking about the floor for something, and Draco could see he wore trousers, but no shirt, and was barefoot. “Is my robe down here?” he asked Draco nonchalantly. Then he noticed Harry sitting there as well, and laughed. “Good morning, Harry Potter,” he said casually, confidently. 

Draco’s told Blaise about his friendship with Harry, which he seemed to have no problem with, except in that vague way he had that implied that he didn’t think much of him (He’s gotten better at hiding his superiority complex since their schooldays – disguising it with confidence – but it was still there). 

“Good morning, Blaise,” he said surprised. “I’m sorry, should I not have come?” he asked them both. 

“I’ll be gone in a minute,” Blaise insisted, walking over to the robe hooks and plucking down his robe. Draco had put it there from its place on the floor this morning. He threw it over his shoulder and walked over to Draco, who stood to meet him. “I’ll just say goodbye now, then,” he said, and leaned in close with a mischievous look on his face, dipping his head, and kissed Draco lingeringly. 

The kiss brought to mind the night before. The kissing, the petting. The way Blaise had his beautiful mouth around his dick, and Draco did the same for him. And then Blaise took him roughly – satisfyingly – from behind.

Draco thought maybe Blaise was putting on a show for Harry with this kiss, playing into the surprise he showed so far. Blaise cupped his cheek as the kiss continued. Draco didn’t mind. It fed his secret wish to throw it in Harry’s face, after all. 

“Goodbye,” Draco said, smile on his face, when he pulled away. 

“See you tonight?”

“Yes, I’ll be done around 5pm today.”

“See you then,” Blaise said, with a debonair smile that made him tingle and disapparated. 

Draco stayed where he was for a moment, staggered by the kiss, until he heard Harry shifting in his seat, putting the blond into motion again – sitting back down. “Sorry, he really isn’t very shy.” 

“What? It was sweet,” Harry replied, “don’t worry about it. You think I haven’t seen Ron and Hermione kiss a million times?”

“That may be a cultural difference then, with the way I was raised. I admit I’m not used to it.” 

Harry expression grew a little shadowed, until is cleared, and then softened a little. “Well with me, you can be as you are,” Harry told him. 

Draco was touched, his pettiness dispelled. “That means a great deal to me, Harry. And it’s one of the reasons I value your friendship so much.”

“I value your friendship a great deal, too,” Harry told him. “Is that another cultural difference, I wonder? The compliments? I’m not used to them, I must say.”

Draco thought a moment. “I’m used to getting compliments, but with the knowledge that most of them aren’t told in honesty. So no, not exactly…When I compliment you, that’s just me. Or, the version of myself that I want to be.”

Harry held his gaze. “It’s…very impactful, if you’d like to know.”

Draco’s heart warmed. “My honesty is actually inspired by you and your lot. Though I don’t think I’m doing it exactly the same way.”

“You’re doing it your way,” Harry said, smiling kindly, and with what Draco thought might be appreciation. “And like I said, you should be as you are.” 

Draco got a lump in his throat, and didn’t know quite what to say. He changed the subject. “Albus?” he asked, subdued. 

~

Blaise left the country again right before the winter holidays. And before he left, right after he enthusiastically kissed him goodbye, he told Draco that if he ever wanted to visit him, it would be more than welcome. Draco was flattered, and thanked him, but he really didn’t think he was made for that sort of on-again-off-again arrangement. 

That bit of doubt must have shown on his face, and Blaise said, “I’ve wondered, but didn’t ask. Why you were so passionate whenever you met with the Golden Trio Plus One.”

A shock ran through Draco. He was found out…at least partially. And he couldn’t decide whether he should enlighten him to the rest or not. 

Blaise looked at him encouragingly, tinged with a superior expression at getting confirmation at Draco’s silence. “Do you fancy one of them?” he asked pointedly, not seeming put off by it at all. 

“I…yes,” the blond replied, and the admission made him feel lighter. He hasn’t told a soul about any of it, and he realized now that Blaise was the perfect confidant. They didn’t share the same friends or circles, he was about to leave the country, and he seemed interested in the answer. Also, Draco thought they were real friends by this point. 

The interest intensified in Blaise’s expression. 

“It’s…Harry.” 

“Yes! Of, course it is,” Blaise replied enthusiastically, slapping his shoulder. He laughed. “You go for the big game, don’t you? You don’t settle.” 

“Yes, well. I’m not going for anything. He’s married,” Draco pointed out. 

“You’re going to let that stop you?” 

“Yes, of course!” he answered, disconcerted. 

“Yes, yes. My mistake,” Blaise placated. “So what are you going to do? Wallow in misery the rest of your life?”

“I’m trying to date in a healthy manner, Blaise – you’re evidence of that.”

“But you weren’t going to accept my invitation, I could tell.”

“It’s not my sort of thing,” Draco reasoned. 

“That’s not all of it.”

Draco was about to retort, then stopped. It had been great with Blaise – fantastic really – but he was alright with letting him go. Perhaps – in addition to knowing the timeline from the beginning – from knowing that he had deeper feelings for someone else, even if he couldn’t act on them. “You’re right,” Draco conceded. “But there’s nothing to be done.”

“Draco, just, keep your eyes open.”

“What do you mean?” he demanded. 

Blaise sighed. “I mean, that, instead of writing him off out of hand, really look at the way he looks at you.”

“I’m not going to sit around him looking hopefully for signs.” 

“Not just hopefully, Draco. I saw him. When I kissed you goodbye in front of him, I saw the way he wished he was the one kissing you. And I definitely felt the hateful glare he cast me!” Blaise laughed. 

“What? I…” Draco was floored. 

“I know you’re the sort that needs to see things for himself, so I’m just telling you to look.” 

Draco nodded, feeling addled. And with that, Blaise kissed him on the cheek, and he was off. 

~

He really was fine with Blaise leaving, but it made him a little sad all the same, his days filled with less laughter and affection – until Scorpius came home a few days later. He filled his days from then on, and so he didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself. He took off from his research as well, to spend even more time with him – when his son wasn’t at the Potter’s anyway. 

He didn’t think too much on what Blaise told him. Mainly because he knew he would work himself into a fit if he started. He also didn’t really believe it. Blaise was mistaken. Instead, he simply promised himself that he would ‘look’ at Harry, as Blaise suggested. 

He and Scorpius were invited to Christmas Eve at the Potter’s place – the same crowd that was present the first time he was invited over there. And it was pleasant and comfortable, because he’s spent so much time with them by now. 

The blond went to Albus’ piano after a while and played for everyone, some lively tunes, and then Albus played the few songs that he knew – making everyone smile. He had taken some lessons at school, and Draco sat down with him a few times during the holidays so far, when he came to the manor. He was learning fast, he was pleased to see. Picking up nuances in the timing and pressure that others might have missed at this stage. Thoughtful indeed. 

Then the kids went off on their own, and the adults gathered together. They didn’t ask after Blaise, they knew he had gone.

When the others stayed outside, getting some fresh air, Draco came back in to the living room to freshen his glass, and saw Harry was doing a bit of quick tidying up. His heart clenched a little. Draco sat down on the piano bench again, more heavily than he normally would and let out a large exhale of breath. 

It got Harry’s attention. “You’re good at that, you know. Are you about you play something?”

“I’m suddenly inspired,” Draco replied, and began to play something - slow and sad. Harry stopped his movements and sat down on the couch, and listened. Draco put his soul into the music as he played. It spoke of tension, and pain, and despair - of love, and loss, and finally of hope.

When it ended, Harry said, a little breathless, “Draco, that was…that was beautiful. What inspired you to play it?” Draco turned around, and looked at him a bit helplessly. “I don’t know that I can put it into words just now,” he told him.

“Thanks alright,” Harry replied, with a complicated look. His eyebrows were a little furrowed, and his expression about as open as he’d ever seen it. Then he seemed to curl into himself some, which was so uncharacteristic for him to do. 

“What is it, Harry?” Draco asked, feeling a little at a loss.

“I haven’t told anyone this, but I’m finding myself at wits end.” Something he kept to himself – for some time. How could that be, when he was so close to his friends? A paragon of friendship that was so rare in this world, and quite enviable. 

“Why?”

“I couldn’t tell my best friends any of it, because Ron is her brother – and that’s another issue I’ll need to address, and Hermione cannot keep a secret from him.”

Draco was beyond startled. And beyond interested in hearing what it could be. 

Harry examined his expression, and went on, “It’s been…off between us – Ginny and I – for a long time, at least on the romantic side of things. She’s brought it up before…to get a divorce,” something shot through Draco at the word – “but I…wanted to try.” Draco’s skin prickled as he continued to listen. How could this be? He and Ginny appeared to be so perfectly happy together. Draco knew something about masks, but he never supposed that even someone like Harry would wear one. Though, this was different of course, the masks they wore were only partial, and meant to keep their friendships intact. “And we did try, for a long time. Even longer than I think we should have, in hindsight. Maybe I was just scared.” He seemed scared. And so sad. Mournful of what he was losing. Draco could relate to loss. 

“And now?” Draco asked, now breathless himself. 

“Now, it’s become rather impossible for me to ignore – though it took a long time for me to get it. I’m dumb and unthoughtful, remember?” Harry said, vexed. Then he looked at Draco with that open expression again, and Draco looked back, still confused but also wanting to help him, and vaguely hopeful in a way he didn’t consciously understand. 

“What did you finally get?”

“Draco,” he called. “How did you…” Draco walked over to him as he hesitated, due to the weight to his words, sat next to him on the couch, and waited for him to go on. “How did you know you liked Blaise?” he asked softly. 

Draco was surprised by the question (and really he was nothing but a ball of surprise at this point), and the poignancy of the timing of such a question when he was just looking at him like that, and with what he was just saying, was more than telling – if he was really reading it right, and not just putting his own hopes onto Harry’s words. He felt off-balance, and his voice was a little unsteady as he answered him. “Well, for me, it started with a wondering. I knew what it was like to kiss a witch already, and I had wondered what it would be like to kiss a wizard, too – a particular wizard that caught my eye,” he smiled a little. “It didn’t seem like it would be unpleasant at all.”

“Not unpleasant,” Harry repeated. “And when you kissed him, did you know then?”

“Yes,” Draco laughed, “I knew right away. It felt…right. Why do you ask, Harry?” Draco’s heart sped up as he looked over his features trying to discern his thoughts. 

He gave Draco a look that said, ‘See through me, do you?’ and said, “I think I like a wizard. And I think I know enough about him to know he likes me, too.” 

Draco’s heart stuttered. And a second later he felt a sense of dismay. “Harry,” he said carefully, “you’re still...” 

“I know, I…” he paused and worried his lower lip, before going on. “I’ve talked to Ginny before, plenty of times about how I probably liked blokes, too. And she said that if the opportunity ever presented itself that I should…find out.” 

“I think she must have meant a random chance, Harry, not someone you know well,” he reasoned. Even as he questioned whether he should be asking such a reasonable question. 

“No, it…has to do with the idea of us starting to look elsewhere, and not at each other. When I saw you with Blaise, I…knew,” Harry told him. “Draco,” he called, asked him to understand. They were so close, and then Harry put his hand on top of his, and squeezed his fingers gently. If felt so personal, so inviting. Draco was starting to feel light headed. 

He could feel Harry’s breath against his face. Draco felt frozen in place as he looked into his green eyes. He couldn’t pull away, and he couldn’t move closer. But he could talk, and said, “If you’re going to do what I think you are, Harry, I don’t believe I have the strength to stop it.” Harry gasped in a breath. “But please, consider that I don’t want to wreck your home. Harry.”

Harry snapped away, looking both hurt and sorry at the same time. Draco felt wretched. “No. No, you don’t understand,” Harry started. “It’s already broken.”

Draco’s eyes widened and he stood up abruptly. Started pacing. “What am I supposed to do with that?” he said in frustration. 

“I dunno!” Harry exclaimed, half-panicked. “Just, hear me out. You made me realize, Draco, that I don’t need to cling to something that doesn’t work.” 

“Me?” Draco really wasn’t comfortable with being the last straw to their staying together. Even though he had meanly tempted Harry for weeks, he didn’t think it would actually accomplish anything. He felt terrible. 

“You. But not you. Please, don’t blame yourself at all.”

Something clicked with Draco. “You…discussed me specifically with her?”

Harry nodded yes, and then they suddenly heard the back door open and they sprang further apart. A moment later, Ginny and Hermione walked into the room, chatting, not paying the two any mind. 

Draco, perhaps on instinct alone, took a step away, gave Harry a last look, and went over to Ginny. He told her that he was feeling ill and needed to go home, but that Scorpius could stay for as long as they wanted him there. Ginny said that Scorpius could stay the night, and then paused and asked if the two had had a row, with suspicion in her voice. Draco lied, saying that that was the case, and that he would be bad company for the rest of the night as he was. 

And then he left, not looking back.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco goes straight to his bedroom, mind reeling. Harry all but said he wanted to try things with him. How could he do that?! It was so amazingly wonderful, though. He went over it all again, relived it over and over. It was everything he wanted from Harry, more than he could hope for. And yet, how could this be? He worried that Harry has misinterpreted some permission to figure himself out that he received from Ginny.

He couldn’t lose Harry from this, but he already might – from what happened tonight. Ginny might balk, and she has every right to. What if this was the end of his friendships with them all? He was the easiest to cast out, after all. A novelty among them. 

He let her believe they were having a row. Well, the more he thought about it the angrier he got at Harry, so it didn’t feel like as much of a lie anymore. He doesn’t think things through! The moment between them was brilliant – raw and powerful, but now Draco was left feeling wounded and miserable. Harry doesn’t even really know for sure – he needed to ‘find out’? Well, Draco knew himself quite well, and it was killing him already. 

The blond seethed, walking back and forth about his room for a good 20 minutes before his head began to clear. He sat down at the small table against the wall near the window. And as he looked out into the night, at the nearby tree blowing gently in the wind, he realized that Harry poured his heart out to him about something that was eating him up – something that no one else knew about. 

And Draco started to feel guilty about walking out on him. Fleeing – more like. Like a coward. In front of Harry. Because of Harry. He was ashamed, because he envied Harry’s bravery. A bravery he showed once again tonight when he clasped his hand the way he did. He’s the last one he wanted to act that way in front of. Why did Harry have to be so infuriating? 

But no, wait, he was thinking of Harry before he started hating on himself. He needs to bring it around. Does Harry feel very alone right now? When the one person he told his troubles to in the world up and left? Would Ginny be a comfort to him, or does he need to hide his feelings from her? 

He felt a strong need to keep his distance. From Harry. From the lot of them. And he didn’t know for how long. But he also felt a strong need to make sure he was alright. He took a deep, cleansing breath, conjured the quill and magiced parchment that served for instant messages and wrote, more hurried and less elegantly than he would normally write. 

‘Harry, I need some time to myself - but, will you be alright?’ He moved his hands away when it was done, and it popped away to Harry’s pocket. 

Draco started getting ready for bed, still feeling off-kilter, and just a few minutes later, Harry’s response popped onto the table. Draco looked under his own writing for Harry’s response.

‘I understand, Draco. And, I’m alright, really. And, your concern makes me feel a little lighter.’ 

Draco’s whole body tingled. He could image the restraint it took for Harry to respect his need for distance. To not write a long explanation back to him. To not ask to meet. And at the mention that Draco’s concern made him feel a bit better, it made him feel lighter as well. 

Feeling understood and thankful and rather endeared, Draco brought the parchment to his lips, and kissed right underneath his writing (even as he felt a little absurd for doing so), and then wrote, more elegantly this time, ‘I’m glad. And feeling lighter myself. Goodnight, Harry.’ 

Right before it disappeared, the spot where Draco had kissed the paper developed a soft outline of his lips. It startled the blond into a panic. He had no idea that that would happen. And the paper was gone before he could think to slap his hand down on it again. Draco wracked his brain. Was there a way to call the paper back immediately? He didn’t know. Would Harry notice it? It was a little subtle, after all. 

A tense minute later, the paper came back with another pop. He looked to the kiss mark right away, and saw that a second mark overlaid the first, just slightly offset to the right. Draco unconsciously groaned low in his throat. Harry kissed right where Draco’s lips had been. His heart thundered hard, his breath quickened. 

Then he read the short message. Harry replied with a ‘Goodnight’ as well, and with a very small heart draw next to it. And that small heart made Draco’s own frazzled heart feel very large indeed. 

~

It’s been two weeks. Though Christmas Eve had ended on better terms that Draco expected, his underlying anger and frustration was still there. And given the time to think it through, only solidified into something he couldn’t ignore. 

Draco and Scorpius finished their Christmas holiday, which filled his days quite nicely. The boys still saw each other as well. But once his son was back at school, Draco went back to brooding and agonizing - and he was terrible at his research, not able to concentrate. So he kept it to bookkeeping and the like for now. 

Since yesterday, Harry tried to contact him. Often. Draco supposed his patience has run out. But he didn’t answer him. Not the fire calls, not the Owls, and not the trendy (confounding!) instant messages. He could imagine what Harry was going to say, and he didn’t want to hear it. ‘Sorry for being so impulsive. The truth is Ginny’s mad at me but I told her it won’t happen again. Let’s still be good friends.’ It made him irate just to think about it. 

But today, Harry knocked on his front door. His mother answered, and let him in. And there was nothing Draco could do against it, except locking himself in his room. Which would be extremely childish and make him look like an idiot – even worse than when he stormed out of the party, which was embarrassing enough. He supposed the adult version of hiding would be to claim he was doing important research and couldn’t be disturbed, but that was so thinly veiled an attempt at hiding given what Harry wanted to talk about, and equally childish in Draco’s eyes. Cowardly, even. And he did not want to feel like a coward when it came to Harry anymore. 

He sighed, and invited Harry into the study, so that at least his mother wouldn’t hear what transpired. As soon as they entered the study, and Draco ensured their privacy, he turned around to him, and looked at him expectantly, unable to summon any words of greeting or hospitality. 

Harry was put off by it, getting self-conscious, and began rubbing the back of his head. “So you are angry,” he commented. Draco held firm, and Harry went on, his expression sincere as he put his arm down, “It wasn’t right of me to put you in that position. I’m so sorry, Draco.” There was a long pause, and then he went on, “I talked to Ginny that night. And she was actually encouraging.” Harry laughed a little. Draco failed to see the humor. “But then, I told her about how I realized that I want to be with you.”

A jolt of surprised elation ran through Draco, and the harsh set of his face faltered a little. Harry went on, “And I do, have real feelings for you, Draco” he told him. “Ginny, she didn’t know what to say at first – as she was starting to realize that this was it for me and her.”

‘It.’ Harry…called it off. Draco thawed a little more, even through the pain – both his own and what he imaged Harry must be feeling – enough put his own tumultuous feelings into words. “I’ve liked you…for a long time, Harry. And in that moment between us, it was extraordinary. But right after, it hurt terribly, because it couldn’t be that easy.”

“A while,” Harry echoed, searching his eyes. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

And now that Draco started talking, he knew he needed to pour it all out of him. “You said that your seeing me with Blaise made you realize. But it was because I wanted to be with you that I needed so desperately to find someone,” he admitted. 

“Draco,” he said, floored. He took a step forward, brows furrowed. 

Draco’s own expression cracked a little. “But I ignored it as best I could. Because it would be even more unbearable to stop being your friend altogether.” 

Harry came over to him then, and hugged him tight. Draco stiffened in his hold, resisting the comfort, then relaxed more and more, melting really, and eventually hugged him back. It felt far too good. Draco held on, hugged him harder, grasped his clothes, and they both stayed that way for a long time. Draco felt like they were in a precarious sort of limbo in that moment. Friend and more than friend. There are precious few in this world that he’s ever hugged so openly. 

When Harry pulled back, he looked up at Draco, and the blond felt the closeness of their faces. Felt the urge to kiss him – that he felt forced to ignore as they sorted this out. Harry said, “Although I’m sure I know, I want to really ‘know’, Draco.” 

Draco’s mind flooded with images of how they could do just that. But then he balked. “Harry, you can’t keep on like this,” he hissed. “Are you really suggesting that we rush in, and then might have to let go? Do you have any idea what that will do to me?” he asked, pained. He was starting feel like Harry was a sweet poison to his soul. 

“I was hoping you could focus on the positive,” he admitted. “Think of how we both wanted this.” 

“You’re saying I’m overthinking it. But you’re not thinking enough,” he replied softly. 

“This isn’t about thinking, it’s about feeling.” Harry put both hands on his chest. “Our chance to express ourselves. To let go.” Oh Merlin, he was poison - one so tempting he would drink it knowingly. He looked into Harry’s eyes, his expression so open and earnest, and what remained of his resolve dissolved to nothing. Affection and pain mingled in his own expression as he nodded yes. That urge to kiss him growing to new heights. 

Harry slowly closed the distance between them, his hands moving up his chest with his palms against him, to his neck, and behind his head, leaving tingling warm behind - and kissed him. 

Harry’s lips were soft, and his kiss held such fire and affection that it consumed the blond. And Draco, his heart so tired of holding back, let the affection pour out of him as well, as their lips moved together. Draco deepened the kiss between them, cradling Harry’s head in his hands, and Harry responded eagerly, sending a thrill through Draco. 

It was steady and meaningful through the heat of it, and Draco was all-in. If this was really his chance, then he wasn’t going to hold back how much he adored him and longed for him. He pulled him tight to him, hands behind his back, and Harry wrapped his arms around his neck. Harry pressed them closer, and pushed his tongue deeper into his mouth, and the intensity was heady. Their tongues slid together, hot and wet, they darted and twined, pulling moans from the both of them as they breathed heavily through their kisses. 

Draco was drunk on him, kissing with abandon – coupled with the feeling that he would never be able to get enough of this. Harry pulled the tie from his hair, and messily buried his fingers in his loose strands. Draco felt deliciously surrounded by him. The blond pushed him into the wall, next to the bookcase, and pressed him in, making Harry groan. He could tell by his restrained palming that Harry could overpower him physically if he wanted to, making it hotter that Harry wanted to be trapped by him. Then he thought to run his fingers through Harry’s deep brown curls, and found they were soft to the touch. 

Harry took off the blond’s robe, and rubbed his hands along his chest, over his shirt. Harry wasn’t wearing a robe, and Draco pulled his shirt over his head. It put his glasses askew and Harry threw them carelessly onto the coffee table. Draco felt his hot skin and toned muscle as he ran his hands over his chest and abdomen – while Harry unbuttoned his shirt, and greedily felt over his revealed skin. Draco loved the way he touched him. 

When Harry felt the scar crossing his chest, he pulled away slightly, breaking their kiss, and looked. A flicker of guilt crossed his features and Draco cut it off right away. “That was a long time ago,” he said, “and I don’t think badly of you for it.” His voice was lust-filled as he said it, but it didn’t make the words untrue. Draco thought that it warranted a deeper conversation – but not now. Not when they were just getting started. Harry accepted his words with a nod, and kissed him again, more tenderly than before. It soothed his soul further, where it had felt poisoned before. 

Draco led him to the couch against the wall and Harry followed. He urged him down as Harry threw himself back onto it, pulling Draco with him so that he was lying on top of him. And then, as they kissed and explored with their hands, Harry ground up into him, pulling a gasping moan from Draco. He vaguely wondered how far they would go right now in the quest for Harry to ‘know’, but Draco knew he would do everything, anything, he wanted. And in the end, it didn’t really matter ‘what’ so long as they were close like this. 

Draco ground back into him, and Harry whined, stirring Draco’s blood. And as they ground against each other, they both fully hardened, and Draco was beyond pleased at making Harry hard for him. Harry wrapped his arms around his waist, under his open shirt, and sucked on his chest. Draco bent down and licked and sucked on his ear. Until Harry pushed him up and sucked on his nipple and Draco could do nothing but gasp near his ear for a few moments. 

Draco straightened up, and quickened their pace, and that along with the sounds of Harry’s moans made him feel the warmth pool in his gut. He cupped his cheek and grazed it with his thumb. Looked into his eyes as they moved against each other. 

At length, Harry closed his eyes in pleasure, and Draco watched him. 

When he recovered, Harry undid his trousers, and Draco lifted his body to make it easier, and after a nonverbal check with Draco – and Draco was sure his expression was quite enthusiastic, wolfish – he pulled out his dick, and stroked him lightly. 

Draco’s breath stuttered at his attention, and he was unable to move for a few moments. And then he undid Harry’s trousers and wrapped his hand around his dick, pulling him out as well. Draco was nearly overcome by the intimacy of it for a moment. And then he set himself to the task of taking Harry apart completely. He squeezed his cock firmly, and stroked him in time with the pace Harry set. And Harry faltered, making Draco smile at his effect on him. Draco took over the pace. 

They pumped each other eagerly, thrusting into each other’s hands. Their kisses turned urgent and messy. Harry was gasping uncontrollably, and Draco took them both in hand now. Cocks together in his grasp, he set Harry to new heights, writhing and arching his body back. “You’re beautiful, Harry,” Draco told him. 

Harry looked like he wanted to look at him then, but couldn’t manage it. And when he tried to speak, he just said, “Draco,” in a whisper. 

The blond kissed and bit at his throat, and then down the length of his body, paying extra attention to each of his nipples. Loving the way he flexed his muscles and his skin twitched in response. When his mouth was poised above his cock, mouth already half-open in eager anticipation, he looked up at Harry, and Harry groaned deep in his throat. 

Spurred on, Draco crawled up his body again, bent close to his ear, and said, “I want to know what you taste like.” He heard Harry whine at his words. “I’m gunna suck you ‘til you don’t know your own name. And I’m not gunna stop ‘til you come hard down my throat.” 

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry ground out. 

Draco pulled back with an exceedingly confident expression, and moved to kneel on the floor. “Sit up,” he urged, and Harry did so eagerly. The blond took off his shoes and socks, and then his trousers and underwear, and threw them out of the way. He spread his legs enough to get between them and admired Harry openly, hands resting on his knees. At his fucked-out expression and flushed skin. His hard, leaking cock. 

Harry leaned forward and grasped Draco’s trousers at the sides, and kissed him as he pulled them down insistently. Draco got up, smiling, breaking the kiss, to help Harry in getting him naked below the waist. He enjoyed Harry’s scrutiny as he took his turn to look. Over his face and chest, down his abdomen to his dick that was so hard for him and temptingly close to his mouth. He pulled Draco down again, by the sleeve of his shirt – which was hanging precariously from his shoulders. 

Draco went accommodatingly to his knees, and the shirt fell off one shoulder where he pulled it. The blond shirked it off completely. 

Draco positioned himself in front of Harry’s hard, leaking cock, and licked the precum that had dripped halfway down his length by now, up to the tip, making Harry cry out. 

They had both been so close to coming when he had them both in his hand. And then his words had wrecked him, too. Draco wouldn’t have to do much more to tip him over the edge. He would be cautious, and draw it out as long as possible. 

“You taste so good,” he told him, and it made his dick twitch, and Draco smiled. He wrapped his mouth around the head of his cock, and sucked gently, making Harry moan continuously. He went down on him further, and wrapped his hand around the base, and squeezed. He moved his head slowly up and down his length, using his hand to pump him where he couldn’t reach, just as slowly. He sucked harder, and licked the underside of his length – sometimes giving special attention to the head. 

Harry’s moans were getting louder, and Draco could feel his hands diving into his hair and grabbing a loose hold. Draco went faster, and Harry started moving his hips in time with him. Then he must have thought better of it and stopped. But no, Draco grabbed his hips on both sides and urged him to move them again. Harry got the hint and started again, and over time dug his hands more firmly into his hair, pushed his head down just a little bit harder, and Draco moaned around his cock. 

When Draco increased the pace again, and massaged his balls with one hand, Harry could do nothing but pant, faster and faster, until he was coming into Draco’s mouth, onto the back of his tongue in thick spurts, and Draco swallowed it down, loving Harry’s cries and the pulse of him in his mouth. And he kept sucking, coaxing more and more from him, until he was spent and boneless. 

Harry sat back with his head over the back of the couch, relaxing his body, looking like he had epiphany or an out-of-body experience. “Was it good then?” Draco asked with a pleased, knowing smile. 

“That was…Draco. I…” He couldn’t finish. 

He absolutely stupefied him. Draco was thrilled. 

Harry grabbed his arm then, and pulled him up and onto the couch. He climbed into his lap, and Draco held his hips. He loved being surrounded by him. Then Harry grabbed his dick, and started pumping him again, and the intensity came back to the blond full force. He had been close himself, and Harry now brought him closer and closer to the edge as he leaned his forehead against him and they shared heavy breaths. Draco held the bicep of the arm that was pumping him, feeling his muscles move under his hand as he pleasured him. Harry moved down to kneel on the ground and Draco groaned loudly and hungrily. 

The blond watched adamantly as Harry gasped his cock, leaned down over him, and licked slowly up the length of him. The wet heat of his tongue was overwhelming. “Harry,” he called, rapidly unraveling. He put himself in Harry’s care. He mouthed and licked his length, driving Draco wild. And when he engulfed his dick, he was panting. He put his hands in Harry’s soft curls, and ran his fingers through them over and over as Harry settled on a rhythm. 

Harry went daringly deeper and deeper down, and sucked harder and harder on his cock. When Draco was on the precipice, Harry urged him to move his hips as he had done, before putting one hand firmly back on his dick, the other fondling his balls. 

Draco thrust shallowly into his waiting mouth, and his orgasm loomed large, a hair’s breath away. He could hear the wet sound of Harry losing suction, not quite keeping up, and the renewed pleasure as he regained it. By the third thrust, he was coming hard, with a shout, into Harry’s eager mouth. Wave after wave of pleasure passed through him. Harry swallowed his come as best he could, but much of it dribbled out his mouth and down his shaft. And when he pulled away, the sight of him with his come dribbled down his chin was devastatingly erotic. Draco drank in the sight as Harry cleaned them up. 

~

Draco lay there on the couch, blissed out for quite a while, and Harry lay on his side with his head on his chest, arm across him, thinking. 

“I think it’s fair to say that I like men,” Harry said at length. 

Draco laughed brightly at the understatement, and smiled at him. Then, after letting his elation settle over him, admitted, “I would love to be this with you.”

Harry looked profoundly moved, which moved Draco in turn. “I want this, too.” Harry leaned up on his arm and looked at him, then he dipped down and kissed Draco slow and deep. It filled Draco with a tremendous warmth through his whole being, and the stab of pain that usually followed that warmth was miniscule in comparison. Maybe it really was possible for them to be together like this.

When Draco went to put his shirt back on, getting self-conscious of the Dark Mark on his arm, Harry caught on and told him he didn’t have to do that. Draco put his shirt back down on the floor, grateful for his acceptance. Well, a tolerance for its presence, at any rate. Which was a vast improvement over most witches and wizards. And he was also glad that he didn’t say any more about it. But still, a seed of doubt stayed with him at the reminder. How could Harry accept him, really? 

Harry snuggled against him more closely, a warm and solid presence - a contented look on his face. And Draco decided that he would rather focus on the man in in his arms. 

He asked Harry if he would like to stay the night, and now they were holding each other close in his bed. And the wellbeing it evoked in Draco, and it continued on and on, was powerful. 

They kept touching each other, and kissing, as if confirming for themselves that this thing between them was real and solid. Harry mussed Draco’s hair even more than it already was, and laughingly told him he should keep it that way.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco and Charlotte Rosier walked about his sprawling property at a leisurely pace, chatting about their daily lives. The third niece to the head of the family. His mother had invited her, and then conveniently ‘forgot’ to mention it to him until she showed up at the front door. 

Wise to her antics, he politely explained to Charlotte that he was seeing someone – his mother feigning ignorance on this score as well. And then Narcissa insisted that they at least talk, because she thought they had some things in common. Draco might have shut her down, but Charlotte looked genuinely interested in the idea, despite everything, and so he accepted. 

Of course, his mother knew very well that he was dating Harry Potter. She had noted his good mood early on, and had taken the opportunity to pry – correctly linking his general elation with Harry’s recent and unconventional visit. Draco didn’t comment when she suggested this (not out of any embarrassment, but out of protest to her meddling – she had given him a list witches and some wizards that she wanted him to get to know a few days before, which Draco ignored), and his mother took it for the confirmation that it was. 

Then, in their growing elation with each other in the days that followed, it became impossible to keep decorum when they went about the manor. Laughing, grabbing hold of each other, sharing secret smiles. He knew she must have mixed feelings. Harry and the Malfoy’s owe each other for what happened at the battle of Hogwarts, and Harry’s testimony afterward kept them out of Azkaban. Draco owes Harry his very life (Draco still hasn’t reconciled how to account for it, personally), and Harry owes Narcissa his - and the wizarding world owes her in part for the very outcome of the war. As a result of all of this, they must always be publicly supportive of him, even as his parents held a monumental and visceral grudge against him. His father would have been an impossible case (he’d rather not think about how that conversation would have gone), but his mother at least has softened her stance over time. 

As it was, she said nothing against it, but Draco could feel her consternation. Hence her attempt at Draco’s diversion from Harry. 

Charlotte was engaging, and a dedicated Healer, and socially modern-leaning, and quite pretty. (And her mother was from the respectable pure blooded Ito family – if Draco were to care about such things). All things that would have made Draco give her a second glance, if he wasn’t so enthusiastically taken already. 

“So, you’re friends with Harry Potter?” she asked, after about half an hour into their conversation, “I saw it in the paper.”

“It’s true. But it wasn’t always that way,” he said good-humored. 

“Quite-so, I image,” she said, laughing. She was about five years younger than him, too young to get tied up in the war, not too young for it to leave scars. She had a charmingly positive disposition, nonetheless. 

“I’m no hanger-on, I promise,” she said, “I only wanted to confirm it so that I knew it was safe to compliment you for it.”

“Oh? Is it really something to compliment?” he asked. 

“I mean, I can infer your views on life from the friends you’ve made, and for you do so despite social pressures is indeed worthy of compliment,” she replied. 

Draco actually was flattered. “Thank you, Charlotte. It can be trying. I moved out of the manor with my family for a long time – in part because my parents and I didn’t see things the same way.” That was the most polite way he could speak about the anger and resentment that swirled around him at that time. Especially toward his father, who leaned on his imposing nature to pressure him into fitting the mold. It was when he started pushing back for the first time. And so Lucius doubled down, tried to instill in him what he thought was lacking in him and his wife and his son, even as Draco saw him deteriorate more and more - the ramifications of the war slowly killing him. Eventually, though, he grew too tired to fight Draco anymore, and it was only then that grew more accepting. “Do you have difficulties in your family?” he asked Charlotte. 

“I find I need to be careful in what I say to those that keep a traditional view of things,” she told him. “But I’ve been talking to others around our age that feel the same as I do. Did you know that there are some in most every family?”

“Vaguely, but I haven’t kept track,” he admitted. 

“Some have mentioned an admiration for you,” she told him. “And I feel the same. And we’re beginning to wonder what we can do about it all. To accelerate the change we wish to see.” 

Draco was taken aback, and genuinely curious about it all. He had thought they all hated him for one reason or another. To find that wasn’t the case… “You sound a lot like Hermione Granger-Weasley,” he told her. 

“I’ll take that as a complement, though I know many in my family that wouldn’t,” she replied smiling. 

“Would you like to meet her?”

“Would I?...Yes! Of course I would,” she answered excitedly. 

“Well then, I’ll owl you,” he replied, pleased by her excitement. 

“And would you consider meeting my friends? Those that want to see things going differently?” 

“What exactly have you all talked about?”

“Mainly…to put it bluntly,”

“Please, do,” he encouraged enthusiastically. 

“The traditionalists need to make room. Their ideas about power and influence are outdated and frankly embarrassing. They make slurs in private and sometimes in public, and it’s unacceptable that there are no consequences.”

Draco barked a laugh. “I was all but called a blood traitor not too long ago. And my mother is just the sort you’re talking about.”

“There, you see?”

He smiled at her. “I could like you, Charlotte. But as I’ve said, I’m with someone,” he told her. She smiled and blushed a little. 

“Is it Blaise Zabini?” she asked, curious. 

“Ah, you’ve seen the papers where we concerned, then?”

“And heard the gossip as well,” she told him. 

“What did people say?”

“All manner of things,” she said vaguely. “Some complimentary, some not.” 

“I think I get the idea,” Draco told her. And he did. Blaise is a real catch – wealthy and handsome. But his blood purity is questioned by some. Draco’s also considered too old to be playing around, and the fact that Blaise left again so quickly makes it obvious that they were. Plus, he can’t have more children if he marries a wizard, which is something he’s expected to be concerned about. “It’s to be expected. But no, it’s not him. It is a wizard though.”

“I see. It’s a real shame,” she said with exaggerated dejection, but also a grain of truth, making Draco smile in a flattered sort of way. “But, I think we could become good friends, regardless.”

“I’d like that,” he replied.

“If it makes a difference, I also like witches, so we’re even.” 

Draco laughed in delight at that. “It seems we make a good pair.” 

~

Over the next few weeks, he saw more of Charlotte. She made him feel grounded and balanced in a way that was missing for a while now – a connection to the best parts of his upbringing, and confirmation of the feelings and reservations that he had about it all today. He saw Harry, Hermione, and Ron on their pub days, and brought Charlotte along before too long, giving the chance for Hermione and Charlotte to talk. 

Charlotte was brilliant. She spoke about her passions and frustrations, and in a way that spoke to them all, while not deriding the highborn directly in any way. There was a fine line that both Draco and Charlotte were well aware of. It was possible that their concerns would seem like the aloof few taking pity on the poor souls of the general wizarding community. This did not seem to happen with this lot – and Draco knew it had something to do with it being them. They looked for the genuine message in her words, and if she seemed out of touch (and Draco was guilty of this as well), then they didn’t let on. 

Then there was the fact that he and Charlotte wished to point out flaws to be corrected, while not casting any individual blame. And the wrong admittances – most notably, the shady investments, and the illegal items in many of these homes – could lead to the very fall of their houses, or at least the arrest of their heads. They all knew enough dirt on each other to ensure their mutual destruction, and so Charlotte and Draco could not cast stones. Draco himself was the master of his house, and knowingly holds onto hundreds of magical artifacts that have been collected over centuries - many of which are illegal. 

So, they kept their discussions to things like perception (the way that Nott recently escaped Azkaban, for example). But it wasn’t just his wealth that kept him out (though that helped), they all decided. There were bigger fish to fry at the time, and he pointed his finger at Delphi, accusing her of coercing him into making the time turner. There were, though, plenty of undiluted examples of undue influence. It had died down, suddenly and significantly after the war, but it persists. 

Their other main subject was on prejudice, and it got quite heated, but in an illuminating sort of way that was in the end beneficial. It came out how the highborn have a significant distrust in authority at this point (a thing that Harry as the head of the DMLE had a hard time hearing, especially from his not-yet-announced boyfriend). And the way that any whiff of illegal activity would bring the law down on them hard, and therefore not worthy of their goodwill. Malfoy Manor’s been raided many times, he pointed out, though not since his father’s passing. 

As for Draco and Harry personally, they were a little awkward in front of their friends – Ginny finding excuses not to come lately (which were easily accepted since they told them they were getting divorced) – not knowing how to act. It was all too new and undefined to be making announcements to them. And quite likely too soon in Ron’s eyes and best avoided at the moment. Hermione called their familiarity a ‘Bromance’, and Draco got the idea of what it meant. 

But what was really important to Draco was how Ginny saw it, and he had talked to her the very next day after he started things with Harry. It was the first time she let him see her desperation for change, and she revealed to him that she was offered the job of head coach for the Harpies, which would have her away from home most of the time. And that the more she thought of it, the more that life called to her. She had played professionally herself for a time, and was a Quidditch journalist now. She longed to be in the thick of it. Draco had no idea.

And her encouragement to Draco was just as sincere as Harry said. It left him rather speechless. 

So as Draco sat in the pub with his friends, he thought his life was looking up. 

~

Draco and Harry got to know each other all over again as they dated. (And how many iterations is that now? From nemeses, to enemies, to begrudging not-enemies, to fellow-adults, to allies or accomplices, to friends, to boyfriends.)

And Draco learned a lot about Harry as his friend before now. The difficult nature of his childhood, which was galling to Draco, but so telling. The connections he made when he entered the wizarding world. Draco could remember his own feeling of superiority when it came to many of them. 

And Draco did his own share of telling. The expectations to excel that came from his parents, his failure to make real connections with others, and making up for it by surrounding himself with those that bolstered his ego. 

But now, he got to learn what Harry’s unguarded smile looked like, what he looked like while he slept. Hear his brightest laughter. Taste his salty skin.

Their desire to be close felt like a making up of lost time for them both. And how daring they got in the bedroom was fueled by that same feeling, even as they took their time with it. When Draco entered him with his fingers for the first time, his mouth surrounding his length, Harry’s enthusiasm was once again overwhelming. And Draco could remember his first back at school – that feeling of, ‘so yeah, this is definitely something I need to do more of.’ It made Harry wonder at his reactions with women – now that he felt like they were muted in comparison – making him realize that his preference was actually toward men all along. 

And then two nights ago, Draco took him the first time. It was brilliant. 

Now, Draco and Harry sat on Harry’s couch in the living room. And as the blond rubbed at the back of his head, through his hair, with his fingers to clear his mind from a particularly frustrating case he was overseeing, Draco wondered if they might try it the other way around tonight. He rubbed at his shoulders now, and Harry moaned. 

“Yes, that feels great,” Harry told him. “I’ve been so tense.” 

“I can feel it in your shoulders,” Draco told him. “Let me help you relax,” he added. Harry relaxed his shoulders more as he went, and then Draco bent down and traced his lips around the soft skin at his neck, making him shutter, and smile. Draco smiled as well, against his skin, and kissed his neck there, then up, higher and higher along his neck. Harry’s breath quickened, and when Draco’s lips kissed his jaw, he put his fingers under his chin and turned his head to the side, guiding him Draco’s lips. Harry moaned. Then he turned around and faced Draco as they kissed. 

Draco pressed his advantage with a smile, and deepened the kiss, holding his head. Harry pushed him back onto the couch and felt his chest, then unbuttoned his shirt, and felt his chest again – with the glide of skin on skin. Draco pushed Harry’s shirt up as he felt his toned chest as well, while Harry pulled out Draco’s ponytail and dove his hands into his hair. 

Draco thrust up against Harry a few times, making them both moan, when they suddenly heard a flaring at the flue in front of them and went still. 

Draco gave Harry a questioning look, asking him nonverbally if he was expecting anyone. He nodded no. Not many people had this direct access to his house, and they had arranged things with Ginny and knew she would be away at her journalist friend’s house. They both looked on, back at the flue again, and saw Hermione and Ron staring back at them – first in owlish surprise, and then in supreme embarrassment, Ron the reddest he’s even seen. 

“Sorry!” Hermione piped. “Weren’t you expecting us? We’ve brought dinner.”

Harry struggled to clear his head as both he and Draco sat up, then said, “Yes…dinner tomorrow. Not tonight.”

“Oh, our mistake. Let’s go, Ron. So sorry.” Hermione put a hand on Ron’s arm to guide him back to the flue, but Ron didn’t budge. Draco could see that what had been embarrassment had now morphed into hot anger. 

“No, wait. Bromance, is it? Harry,” he said his name firmly, a little darkly, “You’re barely just divorced. Hold on now, is this why you divorced Ginny?!” he accursed. “Since when d’you even like blokes?” Ron finished with helpless confusion. 

“Ron, this is not the way to discuss this,” Hermione told him.

“Ron, no, it’s not why it happened.” A glimmer of guilt showed in Harry’s face, however, and Ron pounced on it.”

“Why don’t I believe you, then?”

‘Because he’s too honest for his own good,’ Draco thought. Harry did nothing wrong, but his being happy made him feel it contributed to it all – even though it was going to happen regardless. “Because doing something that makes him happy at a time like this also makes him feel guilty,” Draco said. 

And this brought Ron’s attention more onto Draco – his disheveled hair, open shirt – complete with the angry scar across his chest, kiss swollen lips. And back to Harry, with his crooked glasses, and rumpled shirt that was riding up on one side. 

Harry pulled his shirt down self-consciously at the once-over. Draco did no such thing. It was Ron and Hermione that were the intruders here after all. And maybe it would make them realize that faster, and then leave, if he stayed as he was. 

This all served to redouble Ron’s anger, seemingly feeling betrayed on his sister’s behalf. He stormed over to Harry menacingly, looking like he might hit him. Harry stood to meet him head on, and Draco instinctively put himself between them, staring Ron down warningly. The redhead was visibly shocked at the blond’s reaction, but then trained his accusing eyes at Harry once more as Harry stepped out to the side and out of Draco’s protection, squeezing Draco’s shoulder a moment in acknowledgement. Hermione yelled for Ron to stop it, and put a hand near her wand. Ron clearly heard her but didn’t reply or look in her direction. 

Draco locked eyes with Hermione for a moment, and the blond was relieved from the exchange, knowing she wouldn’t let Ron do something he regretted. It was best, at the moment, for none of them in the thick of it pull a wand, though. It would just escalate the situation. Draco was still ready for it, nonetheless. 

“Ginny’s clearly distraught by it all, and you’re over here sucking face – and more by the looks of it. You both say it’s nothing to do with the divorce, but the timing, and your obvious familiarity despite how recent it was, says otherwise,” he yelled at Harry, and pushed forward into Draco’s space by the end of it. Draco put a hand on Ron’s shoulder to keep him back, and when Ron looked at him, full anger placed on the blond, at length, something in Draco’s protective expression made him deflate a bit, and step back a pace. 

“I’ve no trouble telling you about it, Ron. You’re just not in the right frame of mind for it now.”

“I’m not in the ‘right frame of mind’ because you won’t tell me about it! C’mon, if you’re in the clear, there’s nothing to worry about, is there? Does Ginny know?”

“Yes, Ron. She’s fine with it.”

“How peachy!” Ron screeched back. 

“We’ve all talked it through,” Draco amended, since ‘fine’ was too strong an endorsement for Ron to take. 

“I thought you were a breath away from dating Charlotte,” Ron told Draco. “But no, it seems you had your eyes elsewhere. Waiting. Looking for an upgrade, were you?” Draco got a sinking feeling. “We all know you need it. What’s a Rosier compared to the Savior?” he asked with venom. 

Draco was hurt that after all this time he could say such things, and immediately cast his mind out for the most cutting thing he could say in response. He was being accused of simpering? Social climbing? Being told he was nothing? Well, Ron had nothing going for him either until he met Harry, and somehow managed to marry the Minister of Magic to boot. 

He might have actually said so, and he might not have, but he didn’t get the chance, because before he could, Harry barked loudly, “You will not speak to him that way, Ron. He doesn’t deserve that from anyone, least of all my best friend.” And once again Ron was shocked, but this time at Harry. And both times it was to do with the regard that Draco and Harry had shown each other. The silence as deafening. 

“Oh, I’ve just remembered, we have plans tonight, Ron,” Hermione said, cutting the thick tension with false-casualness. “Since we’ve mixed up the days and came here, we should be spending time with Ginny right now.” That piqued Ron’s interest, and Harry flashed her a grateful smile. 

“Sounds like a great time, actually,” Ron answered her, and walked away and made for the flue. “What a conversation starter I have today.” 

“Oh, and you know, Harry, tomorrow is no good for me anymore. How about the day after?”

“Uh, sure,” Harry replied, once again grateful. “See you then,” he told them, and they both left. 

“Oh my god,” Harry said on a breath, relieved and dejected all at once. Draco put a hand on his back in reassurance. “I’m so sorry, Draco.”

He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. Good on Hermione for giving you a reprieve.” 

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Harry still looked strained, so Draco, wanting to wipe it away, and also reward him for defending him the way he did, wrapped him in his arms and kissed his cheek soundly, making him giggle. 

~

The next morning, Draco got a fire call from Hermione. He invited her through and offered her some coffee. 

“So, Ginny filled us in last night,” she began. “It’s cooled Ron down quite a bit. He went out with George afterward, though, likely to vent – get it out of his system.”

“Should I be expecting some pranks then?” Draco asked ruefully.

“No, this is far too serious for pranks,” she concluded. “No, wait,” she amended after further consideration. “To be safe, yes, expect some pranks. Both you and Harry.”

“Wonderful,” Draco answered sarcastically, crossing his legs. “It better not be those damn frogs. I even went over to his shop and helped him with that one.” It was true. He spent a Tuesday there recently, leading them both to discover how to use the spell safely. It actually helped Draco in his research as well, and his sudden inspiration led him to working diligently for two weeks after. If he had been alone, he would have worked into the night as well, but as it was he much preferred spending that time with Harry. 

“I suggest you take any pranks gracefully and be done with it. It would actually be a good sign, the more I think of it. You see, if he pranks you, he’ll have a laugh and then you’ll be forgiven after. But if this is truly beyond a prank, it shows that he’s carrying a grudge.” 

“That’s very insightful. I’m not sure I can take it gracefully though, to be honest.”

“Well, I am an expert in many things, including an expert on Ron Weasley.”

“I bow to your superior knowledge,” Draco answered with a smile. 

“And if you find you don’t have a sense of humor about it, I suggest you figure out how to grow one.” 

“I’ll try,” Draco promised. And maybe the answer was in what she already said. The way that they joke with each other, it’s not about humiliation, as Draco would have once supposed (and when it was done to Draco back at school it was always in retaliation, though it was indeed quite humiliating), it was about getting over things so that they could move on, and in a way that they could all laugh about. 

She smiled encouragingly. “So, tell me what happened from your point of view. Confidentially of course, I wouldn’t tell Ron,” she asked. Draco told her the whole story, and when he was done, she said, kindly, “From now on, please know that I’m your friend too. Not just Harry’s. It sounds like you were quite tormented for a while, and had no one to talk to about it.”

Draco was touched. “Thank you, Hermione. It wasn’t easy, no. And I really never expected that things could actually happen between us. And now that they have, I really couldn’t be happier. Warts and all.”

Hermione laughed knowingly and smiled at him. “I’m still wrapping my head around it, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes to me. You’ve always been preoccupied by each other, haven’t you? I can’t wait until we’re all going out again, and I get to see you both acting naturally with each other.”

“I’m rather charming when I want to be,” Draco told her with a smile.

She laughed. “I’ll bet!” 

~

Draco and Harry spent weekends together when Harry wasn’t taken in by work - sometimes camping in warmer climes, sometimes to lesser known getaways in even warmer places (though Draco had to convince him to spend some of the galleons he was sitting on top of. It made him wonder if he even invests it properly). 

Until one day, Draco didn’t want to put it off any longer. He needed to define things with him. Wanted to claim him as his. Free to come and go with him in their houses, and in public. Wanted to think on what their hopes and dreams might be together. And so he asked him over to the manor on a date to broach the subject. 

Now, Draco and Harry sat contentedly on the bench looking out on the lake in the back of Malfoy Manor. Draco thought about the past few weeks. The way that they saw each other often in their houses, though always well-coordinated (except for that once). The way they spent the night. The way they talked about their hopes for the future, but not where it concerned each other. 

Draco took his hand, twined their fingers, and spoke first. “I have tickets for a show this weekend. The best magical acrobats in China are touring – I’ve heard they’re spectacular. Would you like to go with me?”

Harry was surprised, thinking through the implications. A bit of worry cross his features, followed by a growing smile, until he was beaming at him. “I’d love to, Draco.”

“I’m glad,” he replied, wholeheartedly, relieved, kissing his fingers. 

“Shall we make it official, then?” Harry asked, pink in his cheeks. 

“There’s nothing I would love more,” he told him sincerely. 

They were together. Officially. Draco squeezed Harry’s hand, and held it firmly. He guided him toward him by the hand, leaning in himself, and kissed him softly, lingeringly. And his heart sang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: they finish their date!


	6. Chapter 6

There would be family and friends to talk to, but that could start tomorrow - as long as he could kiss Harry today, and for as long as they wanted after. They looked at each other in appreciation for long moments after their lips parted.

Hermione and Ron were already well covered, if a bit dramatically. It happed the next day after Hermione’s warning. The four of them met for dinner at Harry’s, at Ron’s request. 

*

With everyone awkwardly seated at Harry’s dining table before dinner, there were apologies all around. Ron first, to Harry for jumping to conclusions, and Harry to Ron for not being honest with him in the first place. Then, Ron to Draco for making accusations. Though it was a good first step, Draco thought, there still hard feelings from most at the table. 

After a minute of silence, Ron started asking questions about their relationship, and it broke the ice some more. Hermione joined in as well with her natural curiosity, and in the end Ron was at least a little endeared by it all and claiming that he always had a hunch about Harry’s feelings for Draco. 

Harry got cutely embarrassed and decided that that was the moment he should bring out the meal. He asked Draco for help and they went into the kitchen. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I had a huge crush on you back then,” Draco told him. 

Harry was surprised at his admission and then smiled. “I didn’t know what it was then, and there were plenty of other feelings involved. But yeah, I was totally drawn to you. Still am,” he finished with a smirk, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

Taken by his honesty, Draco told him, “I loved the way you were when you were with your friends - I only wished I was one of them. I loved the way you pushed back against me.” And he felt some of that old challenge in him as he said it. He grabbed Harry’s hips and pulled him flush against him. 

“I loved your swagger, Harry told him. “I only wished you would smile brightly at me, instead of hatefully. I loved making you react, even if the only way was to push back.”

Draco kissed him hard. And a moment later, to their surprise, two dozen frogs popped into existence in the kitchen. They looked around confused for a moment. They were indeed Ron’s frogs, but with a twist. On each of their backs was an ornamental heart attached to a spring. So as they jumped about, the spring wobbled them about and it was just about the funniest, most peculiar, thing he’s ever seen. 

“My kitchen!” Harry yelled. And Draco started laughing uncontrollably. 

“Are you smooching in there?” Ron yelled into the kitchen knowingly, amusedly, through the door. 

Draco, overtaken by his amusement, went to kiss Harry again. Harry started to protest, “That’ll make it worse!” but when he saw Draco’s unbridled expression, he smiled back, and they kissed again. Two dozen more frogs popped into the kitchen and hopped about with the rest, knocking things over carelessly as they went with a cacophony of ribbits. And as their kiss lingered, another two dozen joined them. 

The scene that greeted them when they parted was enough to send Draco leaning against the counter in uncontrollable laughter. Ron and Hermione came into the kitchen now, Ron a wide grin on his face, appreciating his handiwork. “You’ve made it worse!” he told them, infinitely amused. Hermione was laughing freely. 

“How long will this go on?” Harry asked him, both amused himself and worried for his kitchen. It was then that they all disappeared with another pop. 

“With perfect comedic timing,” Ron announced. 

Eventually, they all made it back to the table for dinner, mood much lighter than before. 

It was after dinner, with Draco and Ron playing wizard’s chess, that Ron revealed to him his insecurities that still persisted today for how Draco treated him - all three of them - at school. A poor boy in a large family, forced to defend his dear muggleborn friend. Draco realized he never apologized for it, and decided to amend that.

Then added. “I was…angry over my own insecurities. That Harry would reject my friendship for yours. And I believed the things my parents told me about your family because I idolized my father, and because it made me feel superior. Anyone would want the kind of friendship you three shared. And I only later realized it would have been impossible for me to have one with anyone as I was. Because real friendship takes a sort of openness that I had no idea how to do. Astoria was the first real friend I ever had.”

Ron looked at him for a long time. “I do get that, really. I haven’t been looking at you that way now, but when I saw you with Harry like that, it felt like all of your selfishness back then paid off for you after all. And that, if Harry chose you, he wasn’t choosing me. But, I know, I know, that’s not really the case. It just brought up old feelings, I guess.”

Old feelings. “That’s happened to me, too, so I understand. When I tried to make Harry feel uncomfortable that time in the pub, it was because it felt like you were all against me again.”

“Merlin!” Ron exclaimed in realization. “He was flirting with you! All the way back then. Even if he didn’t realize it. What an idiot.” 

Draco thought back at the way Harry made a joke of joining him and Blaise, and laughed. “You’re right, he was!” 

*

The news to Hermione and Ron would be in the officiality, not of the relationship itself. It was the same for Ginny of course, his mother, Charlotte, and George. Harry’s top two Aurors knew something of it as well. For one, they were very close to Harry, and two, they were trained to be extremely perceptive and they noticed how Harry interacted with Draco the one time he met him at his office at the end of the day. That left the children to be told, as well as the Weasleys, who Harry considered to be his own family. 

“Would you like to see my research?” Draco asked him suddenly, hit with the urge to share more of himself with him. Harry nodded and they proceeded to the basement. It made him nervous, Draco noted. He might never be comfortable at the manor, especially the places there he was in during the war. The basement held the dungeon after all…”I’m sorry, we can turn around?”

“No, it’s alright. This is your home, I want to be here,” Harry insisted. Draco still watched him carefully as they descended. He knew Harry still suffered from nightmares of the past sometimes, though Draco hasn’t been there for it yet. Harry told him mainly because he noted that sleeping next to Draco seemed to keep them away, which warmed Draco’s heart. The blond then confessed that he had them too, even after all this time. Mainly of Voldemort taking command in his home, sometimes of the battle of Hogwarts. 

He nodded his understanding and explained, “I might do my reading in the study, but the real work is down here. The stores, the experiments. I also work on circles, and it’s easy to draw large circles on the flat stone down here.” And once they’d arrived, and Draco lit the sconces, Harry could see what he meant. There were five full cabinets, and potions being brewed or distilled. Huge intricate circles, some drawn with one particular chalk or another, others made of loose mineral mixtures, were everywhere in varying degrees of completeness.

“These are what I invented,” he pointed out, going to a display case. One set of vials, glowing blue, another set a dull red, along with the official instructions for each, framed behind them. “And all the rest are works in progress.” Draco swept his arm to indicating everything else in the room. 

“That thing about healing magical damage, which one is that - how does it work?”

“It’s highly confidential, but I’ll tell you,” he teased as he walked over to the center work table – the only cluttered part of the room, with a running cauldron, books, parchment full of notes, and collections of ingredients. Harry looked over it all with a warm expression. He explained in some detail why each part of it was important – what it did in reaction to the other parts. 

“If you’re trying to impress me, it worked,” Harry told him, making Draco smile. 

They poked around a bit longer, until Draco cast a casual tempus and said, “It’s getting a bit late – shall I make you dinner?”

“You can cook?”

“I have been known to cook a few simple things,” he replied. “But the kitchen elves need to do it with me or they’ll be highly offended,” he told him seriously. 

“I believe you,” Harry told him. “And, I suspect you think I think badly of you for having house elves. Come to think of it, I’ve never even seen one while I visited you here...But that’s not the case, Draco. I mean, I’m sure we’ll find a reason to disagree if we try, but just the fact of you having house elves doesn’t trouble me so long as they’ve all the rights they’ve been given.”

“I suppose I suspect you think badly of me for a lot of things, Harry. And yet, inextricably, you’re here,” Draco told him. 

“Perhaps I’ll tell you all the reasons then, so that it’s not so inextricable to you. If you can soften me up with a good dinner first,” he teased. 

~

Harry dug into the meal and moaned. “This is a simple meal?” It was roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans, all seasoned and cooked to perfection. 

“Relatively. And I still had help, remember.” 

“It’s delicious.” 

“Thank you, and Poppy will be delighted to know.” 

Harry looked at him kindly. “That’s one of the reasons I’m here, right there. You give credit where it’s due. It’s very telling. And you don’t flaunt what you have. Not really, anyway. You seem to bring it up for amusement more than anything. You also make sure others finish speaking before speaking yourself. Except when you’re in a fit of course, then you just barrel through – but you’re only ever in a fit for your son’s sake, so it’s all very endearing really.” 

Draco smiled brighter and brighter at the praise without even realizing it. “So most of your praise will be based on your ‘read’ of me, Mr. Chief of Magical Law Enforcement? Don’t leave out how charming I am, my pride won’t take it.” 

Harry laughed. “Don’t worry, I find you quite charming.”

“And handsome.”

Harry laughed again. “Extremely handsome,” he added. “Alright, do me.”

“Gladly,” he teased, pulling a laugh from Harry. 

“Come on, come on,” he ushered on.

“You’re making it too easy,” he said, of the easy innuendo he could make of what he said, then moved on. Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Alright.” He took a moment to look at him, and a few things came immediately to mind, and his thoughts grew fond. “I didn’t even know what genuine caring looked like until I met you. It took me a long time to appreciate it, too, but I do, very much. You can see the good in people, when I didn’t even know where to look. You live honestly, even when it’s hard…You’re whole face lights up when you smile.” His words make him smile, and Draco’s chest fills with warmth. “When I kiss you, the rest of the world falls away.”

“Draco.” Draco smiled at him, completely smitten, and kissed him.

~

After dinner they went near the lake again, and lay down in the grass. They took turns making light dance from their wands, then moved on to making etchings with the light they made. Sometimes beautiful things – swirling patterns or an animal, sometimes silly things that made them laugh – Harry made a frog with a heart on its back. 

When Draco caught Harry with an irresistible smile, he leaned up on his arm and bent over him, watched the anticipation in Harry’s face, and kissed him. 

The kiss held relief, and a promise, and the affection between them. It held for a long time. 

Harry started unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Do want to come to bed with me?” Draco asked. 

Harry smiled, and said, “Let’s go.” 

Just to show off, Draco apparated them both on the spot to his bedroom, and onto the bed. Harry looked around, and smiled at him in appreciation. Then went back to kissing him and unbuttoning his shirt. Draco took off his glasses and put them on the bedside table, lay fully on top of him, and then pulled his shirt over his head, and tossed it to the floor. Harry pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and Draco sat up to let it drop from his arms and threw that shirt to the floor too. 

Harry looked him over hungrily, sat up and started kissing his chest. Draco closed his eyes at the feel of it. His fingers traced along the scar he had made, and it made Draco open his eyes again. Then he kissed the center, making Draco feel warm. 

Before Draco could dwell on it too much, Harry’s mouth was on his neck. Harry ran his fingers through his hair, against his scalp and kissed him again. 

Harry pushed him back onto the bed, and took in the sight of him, and at length zeroed in on his dark mark. He’s looked at it before of course, but never so intently as this. 

Harry bent down some, and grazed the mark with his fingers. “Is this alright?” Harry asked. There was no derision on his face – no scorn. Draco thought it was some form of deeper acknowledgement and acceptance of their shared past, like with the scar but something more, and so he said yes. He looked at it more closely, and continued to move his fingers over it. 

Then he looked into Draco’s eyes, and kissed his lips again as his fingertips touched the mark. It felt like a blessing. Draco felt his pollution dissolve under his touch, and a tear escaped his eye - ran down his face. Draco kept kissing him, hoping he wouldn’t see. But his throat hitched a little as well, and Harry ended the kiss and looked at him with concern and understanding. 

“Am I absolved?” Draco asked him, not knowing if it was even fair to ask him such a thing. 

“You are to me,” Harry answered, “But you must absolve yourself as well.” It felt like Harry could see right through him, into his soul. “It’s not like a switch, it doesn’t happen all at once. At least, that’s not how it was for me. For a long time, I blamed myself for the friends that I’ve lost. Even when everyone around me said not to. I had to realize it for myself, over time.” 

Harry had felt guilty after everything he did? How terrible. It was Draco that should feel guilty, not him. Yet, his admission made him more comfortable in making him own. “I’ve felt the weight - all this time. And I deserve it.” All of those feelings came crashing down on him as he spoke of them. “What do you see in me, Harry, that absolves me?”

Harry took a deep breath. “If Voldemort came to you today, would join him?”

“No,” Draco answered incredulously. “It was never my choice in the first place.” 

“Would you house an escaped death eater that knocked on your door?”

Draco thought about it. No, there was not a good one in the bunch. “No.” Harry noticed him have to think about it a moment. It actually made him look pleased, perhaps for its naked honesty. 

Then his face went neutral, his voice all interrogator, “Have you developed a terrible potion that will make you invulnerable so that you may become the next dark lord, and rein terror on us all?” And he asked it so seriously that Draco didn’t know what to make it for a moment.

“Of course not,” he answered, at half-agitated.

“Then what’s there to forgive?” Harry asked him, when his expression opened up again. “You’ve done all the work already. You’re a good man.”

Draco huffed with emotion, rejecting his words. 

“You’re a good man,” Harry told him again. 

He held onto Harry’s waist and pulled him down to hug him hard. Harry returned it, and smiled into his neck. They stayed that way for a long time. 

And at length, when he loosened his grip, Draco was compelled to acknowledge Harry in a similar way. He pushed back Harry’s hair from his forehead, and barely saw the faded lightning bolt scar that made him famous. He kissed his scar, and dug his hands into his hair. And when Harry looked at him, he looked sincerely touched. 

They kissed lovingly, and then the kiss evolved with a sensuous, burning heat between them. Harry removed the rest of their clothes with a spell, and suddenly they were both deliciously flush together, arms wound around each other desperately. Harry circled his hips against him slowly, and Draco met his movements until they were both gasping. 

This wasn’t the first time for them, and they had so much fun figuring out what they liked with each other, but Draco knew it was about to be the most powerful it has ever been between them. The promise between them thick in the air, and the connection to the past they both made. Not to say it wasn’t powerful before now. Their eagerness and intensity has been nearly overwhelming – a lifetime of clashing, admiration, suspicion, jealousy, appreciation, longing, hurt, and finally affection coming to a heads. 

Draco flipped him over onto his back, nerves alight by what Harry does to him, and attacked his neck with his mouth as he ground against him, still holding him down at the shoulders. “I’m gunna make you cry in pleasure, Harry,” he told him, snapping his hips to give him a taste of what he was going to do to him. 

Harry groaned loudly. “Not if I make you scream first,” Harry hold him, grabbing his arse, driving Draco wild. It was going to be like that today, was it? Draco smiled wickedly, and his heart sped up. He kissed Harry roughly and parted his legs so that he could settle between them, and thrust against his cock again. Harry keened as they wrapped their arms around each other. 

Now, the blond made a point in his daily life of staying in shape, and his training was centered around dueling – in part in case he and his family would be challenged for being who he was and not being in Azkaban. Harry, in contrast, was more well-rounded, as he should be as the head of the DMLE, making him a challenge to tousle around with, bringing out Draco’s competitive side in these moments in an exceedingly satisfying way.

Harry grabbed him by the arms and spun him forcefully around onto his back. Draco grit his teeth as he tried to prevent it, then laughed - as Harry attacked his nipple with his mouth, and moaned right after. Harry gabbed his dick and stroked with a firm hand. Draco let himself get lost in it, thrusting back into his hand, planning to take back control later. 

Harry’s mouth was everywhere on him as he stroked him, and then he took his cock into his mouth and Draco was in heaven. Harry sucked at his length, and rubbed his hands over him. Draco was getting more lost and decided it was time to take action. 

The next time Harry moved off of him to take a breath, Draco tackled him down so that he was on top of him. He overwhelmed him immediately with kisses and touches, and moved his hand to stroke his dick. Harry tried to push him off, and Draco suspected he was holding back just enough for it to not work. Draco trapped his arms with his for good measure, loving how he strained against him, and how it made Harry moan. 

When Harry seemed subdued, he moved down his body and sucked his dick with firm pressure. Harry spread his legs wide and put his hands in his hair, further loosening his ponytail. Harry unraveled more and more as Draco went on, gasping and moving his fingers through his hair. Draco, eager to ‘win’ this and top him, decided to give Harry something new to make him undone. 

“Can I try something?” Draco asked him, supreme confidence in his voice let Harry know that it was something he was going to like very much. 

“Anything,” Harry answered, making Draco’s blood stir even more. 

Without hesitation, Draco parted him and licked at his hole once. “Ah!” Harry gasped. “Fuck. Do that again.” 

Draco smiled at his success and assaulted his entrance with his tongue and mouth. He licked firmly with his tongue, over and over, making Harry gasp and groan. He sucked against his hole for a few minutes, and then poked his tongue against his rim, pushing repeatedly, as the muscles gave way to him. Harry made strangled sounds in his throat, and pushed Draco’s head into him. Draco laughed wickedly and firmed his tongue so that pushed further and further inside him each time. 

“Fuck, Draco,” Harry said. 

“How much do you want me right now?” Draco asked, looking at his face intently. He brushed his fingers toward his hole, poised outside, and stopped. 

“I need you inside me,” he told him. 

And Draco pushed a slick finger inside him. Harry groaned again. Draco prepared him well with his fingers, but didn’t prolong things for too long. He was already pushing his luck, and Harry might tackle him and ride him in his fervor (not that that would be a terrible thing either!). But no, Draco was in the mood to be in control. He wrapped his mouth around his cock again as he prepared him, and stroked his sweet spot, but just enough to drive him to new heights of desire. 

When he was satisfied with Harry’s need for him he pushed his way inside triumphantly. And when he moved, he pulled the most amazing sounds from him. He worked them up to deep, rolling thrusts that Harry met, arms around the blond’s shoulders. Draco had one hand on his arse, and the other in his hair as they kissed through it all – also slow and deep. 

It was one of the most sublime nights of Draco’s life, and when he came, the release of it – the celebration seemed to be on every conceivable level. And when he stroked his cock in time with their now jarring movements, Harry was coming too, gasping and trembling and holding on tight.


	7. Chapter 7

Two days later, there was a well-enough-going but still awkward conversation with the children in the Headmistress’ office. She had only been persuaded to grant yet another special permission to meet when Harry told her exactly what it was that they had to tell them. They couldn’t have surprised her more if they tried. “Trouble clings to both of you, and now you’ve joined forces. Not that I’m dissuading you. Just, be careful,” she told them when they came though. 

“Yes, Professor,” Harry answered like a schoolboy, with a teasing smile. “Really, though, we’ll be fine.”

When their children where all gathered, and Draco and Harry told them what they came to tell them (for a moment they were worried something horrible had happened and they had to assure them that wasn’t the case), Scorpius laughed, Albus asked a lot of questions, James made some jokes but was also unhappy with how quickly it happened after the divorce, and Lily cried, apparently holding out hope that Harry and Ginny would make amends, but eventually came around.

That Friday night, they had dinner with Molly and Arthur Weasley. They were surprised to find out that what George had exuberantly told them the other day was indeed true (George hadn’t laughed so hard in years as when Ron first told him about Harry and Draco, and he just had to share it). Harry had been nervous. They knew he and Draco had become friends over these months, but this was something else entirely. 

After their initial surprise, Molly started asking Draco questions one might ask the new boyfriend of a family member, and Draco could see the relief pour off of Harry. Harry had already been through the ringer with the divorce, and these two had stood by him, making it clear that he would always be family. It didn’t keep him from getting worried about tonight though. Then they insisted that they both had to attend the next family gathering in a few weeks. Draco would certainly need that time to mentally prepare himself. And yet, despite his difficulties in understanding this family, he was left a pleasant feeling of warmth from having been in their home and talking to them. 

Saturday night went spectacularly, and they did get their picture taken, and they weathered the storm quite nicely. 

~

Draco got the fire call around 8 pm from Hermione. Her voice was rattled and urgent. Harry and Ginny were hurt – bad. Attacked as they left a restaurant together an hour ago. Draco was out of his chair in an instant. 

“Where are they now?!”

“St. Mungo’s. I’m about to go there myself.”

“I’m on my way,” Draco told her.

Draco had been ruminating on the fight he was currently in with Harry when Hermione called. 

*

The morning started pleasantly, with Draco waking dreamily and Harry, getting dressed, teasing him jovially about how Draco never needed to wake up at a particular time at all. “I’ll have you know I have alarms on all of my running potions, and I do a great deal throughout the day,” he said back, with mock indignation. 

Draco noticed Harry packing up a folder with checks sticking untidily out of it. “And what is that?” he asked, amused at his messiness. 

“I have to go the bank today.”

“Are those your pay checks?”

Harry shrugged. “I haven’t been needing them ‘til now.”

“And you make fun of me. I, for one, go the bank once a week.” Harry rolled his eyes, and Draco went on, “I run an estate you know.” The blond looked long at the messy folder. 

“You really want to take a look, don’t you?” Harry asked. 

“I do, actually. Not that I’m dying to know what you have, but because I’m really curious about how you’re running it.”

Harry handed it over carelessly. 

Draco took a look. There were records of his sums, properties, and some mediocre investments. He could see that he owned the Black family home – something his mother found out when she inquired about the house some time ago, but he had forgotten. “You could do better than your financier, Harry.” He went to the desk and wrote out some names. “Pick from any of them. They know how to manage and invest large sums.”

“Uh, thanks. I’ve been taking this one’s advice and it seems to be working out just fine though.”

“Don’t just take his advice, do you own research as well,” Draco advised. 

“I don’t want to have to think too much about it. I have more than I need already,” Harry told him. “Thanks Draco, but I’d rather focus on my job and everything.”

“But you could be making so much more from it,” Draco protested. 

“That’s fine if that’s what’s important to you, but I really don’t pay it much mind,” Harry insisted. 

Draco didn’t understand. It was simply the responsibility of someone with a fortune to manage it, and to make sure he wasn’t being led astray. Additionally, here was Draco, an expert on the subject here offering advice, and he still didn’t gain any interest in it. “Yes, I have the finances, the manor, collections of items, and my research.”

Something in Harry’s expression, an opinion that the first few of those things weren’t very important at all showed through. 

Draco might have laughed it off before, but now took it more seriously now that they were together. It turned out, it seemed to Draco, that Harry wasn’t as understanding as he had led Draco to believe. More – tolerantly bemused, which was galling to Draco. In the back of his mind, he knew that couldn’t really be true because he was with him in the first place. It was still hard to get past. And so Draco had pressed him to get his truthful opinion, and Harry said he had no issue. 

And so they fought. And Draco seethed.

*

Until now – and now, he could see how silly it was of a fight. Draco was just being sensitive. And all he really cared about was Harry. He grabbed his belongings, apparated, and walked briskly inside, seeing Hermione a short distance ahead of him, also walking quickly. 

He caught up to her as she spoke to the reception-witch, and they were both directed on where to go.

~

When Draco and Hermione reached the hallway outside of Harry’s room, he could see the large gathering of Weasleys there.

“Are the Potter kids here?” Hermione asked Ron. 

“They’re in the room with them, along with my parents,” he told her. 

“How are they?” Draco asked him, unable to keep any of the worry out of his voice and expression. 

Ron looked back at him probingly, Draco’s reaction perhaps more than he was expecting.

Hermione noticed as well, and told him, hand on his back, “Let’s go inside.”

“It’s family only,” Ron explained.

“Well, I’m the Minister of Magic. And I say that Draco and I go inside.” 

Draco looked at her thankfully and they went into the room without trouble.

Draco could see Harry on the near bed, eyes closed and face blue. Healers were giving him air directly into his lungs with a spell. He turned to the other bed, and he saw Ginny, also unconscious – her face an even deeper, concerning, shade of blue. 

There were two Aurors in the corner, talking to the children and Ginny’s parents. 

“What happed?” Draco asked the room at-large firmly. 

The Aurors were quick to notice and walked over to him and Hermione. They greeted her quickly and at her nod, the first – Harry’s first – said, “Ma’am, Mr. Potter was off duty, leaving The Sprawling Fig with Ms. Weasley, when an unknown wizard approached them, and performed an unknown spell on them. All attempts at identifying the spell have shown nothing, so it’s a new spell. The spell left an odd smell of pickles, according to witnesses. The victims dropped to the ground immediately, and slowly tuned blue as help arrived.”

“The head Healer had come over as well at some point, and she now added, “We’ve tried all the common cures that we know of, and some uncommon ones as well, and they’ve had no effect. We absolutely must know what exactly the spell does. We know they aren’t getting enough air, and it’s still getting worse.”

Draco looked to the kids and they were looking scared, standing close with their grandparents. Draco gave them all a sympathetic look. Wait. “Did you say it smelled like pickles?” he asked the Auror probingly. 

“Yes, pickles. Does that mean something to you, Mr. Malfoy?” 

Draco racked his brain, trying to remember. “Nott!!” he yelled, surprising the others around him. 

“As in the Nott family? Theodore’s on thin ice,” the Auror said, indicating his history of bad behavior. Draco was familiar, of course. 

“Yes, Theodore. He’s messed around with spell crafting, and he told me once about a spell he was working out. It took air from a sealed vessel to create a vacuum. I thought he was exaggerating his success, he’s not a good crafter. But I remember, he said it had the annoying quality of leaving behind a smell of pickles.

“Let’s go make him talk,” the second said urgently.

“I’m coming, too,” Draco announced. 

“Aurors only,” he protested. 

“I know how to talk to Nott,” he pressed. “He’ll just freeze up on you. Look, he wouldn’t use it if he didn’t have an antidote. I’ll make him give it to me,” Draco said fiercely. 

“Draco, are you sure?” Hermione asked. 

“Absolutely.” He could see her looking at the fire in his eyes, calculating. 

“All four of us will go,” Hermione said. “Aurors, I take full responsibility for Mr. Malfoy.” 

He took one last look around the room. To Harry in the bed, Ginny on the other side, to the family looking on, and he settled last on Albus, who looked at him like the determination in his eyes gave the boy strength. 

And then he turned, and left.

~

Draco knocked on the door to Theodore’s house, and stepped back. The door no doubt identified the one knocking, and Draco wondered what he would think of it. Better than an Auror knocking, in any case. He opened it quickly enough – a gloating look on his face, and the Auror’s disarmed him immediately, and bound him right after. He was floated back in the center of the living room, snarling at being bound. 

Draco looked on at him as he walked inside, trying to calm his mind through his rage. He needed to uncover his motivations for targeting Harry and there were many potential reasons that were quite obvious. His ideology would give him a hint of how to play it best. But most importantly, and urgently, he just needed the antidote. He had to find out where it was hidden. 

Draco walked up, close to Nott’s face, and said, with cool menace, “It was you that attacked Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, wasn’t it, Nott?” 

“Worried about your dear Potter, are you?” he taunted low so no one else could hear. “And you’re working with the likes of them to help him?” he accused, indicating Hermione specifically with a tilt of his head. Draco sighed. It was likely about blood purity then. Law enforcement has not tolerated that brand of hate for a long time, and the resentment of those that hold it lingers. Same old shite. “I bet you want to get back to sucking Potter’s cock as quickly as possible, but I’m afraid he’s not coming back from this,” Nott said even lower. 

Draco saw red. At the insult to his integrity, possibly his orientation, taunt about Harry’s dire situation, and the gall of him talking to him so crassly. He punched him hard in the gut, putting his legs into it, knocking the wind out of him. As he struggled for breath, Draco straightened up and waited. The younger Auror balked, but Hermione quieted him. And when he was recovered enough to hear him, Draco leaned in close, right to his ear, and said, “That’s not your concern here. All you’re stupid little brain needs to comprehend is that I’ve come for the antidote. And you’re going to tell me where it is, right now.” Draco thought to treat him as him father would have, who he had feared a great deal, and tried never to disappoint, and hoped he got the desired response (though the punch was all Draco). The blond stepped back, and looked at him again.

Theodore’s eyes were wide with incredulity. “You really are his creature, aren’t you?” he wheezed. 

Draco got his wand out, getting impatient. Thinking of Harry, unable to breathe on his own and running out of time. He put it to his throat from the side, so that if he cast it would go straight through the center, dug it hard into his skin. “The antidote.”

“Are you really going to let him do this?” Theodore asked the Aurors hoarsely. 

“He’s not in the department, just a wizard on the street. We tried to contain him but failed to do it properly,” the commanding Auror lamented. Draco didn’t forget that Harry was their chief, and that the commanding Auror was his first in command. He was counting on their willingness to bend the rules here. 

“I take full responsibility,” Hermione interjected. “He’s my friend who happened to be with me when I was called in. He heard Harry’s name and panicked. Some people can’t keep their heads in dire situations, I’m afraid. Poor dear.” Draco was bolstered by the acknowledgement that they were backing him up, though the narrative that he was being hysterical stung his pride a bit. 

Draco pressed his wand deeper into his throat for emphasis. He saw him starting to panic. “You all but confessed, Theodore Nott. You’re only hope at leniency is to hand over the antidote,” Draco said, having no idea if that was true. 

Draco saw Theodore deflate, dejected. “It’s behind the painting, just there,” he indicated with his head. The Aurors were on it right away, checking for traps. Demanding how to unlock it. When it was open, Draco offered to put his hand inside, knowing the trick of it. He put his hand into unknowable darkness, and felt around assorted objects until he wrapped his hand around a vial. He pulled it out, just so, and looked at the orange colored liquid. This must be it. 

“You won’t get through this unscathed, Malfoy. I’ll make sure everyone knows that you’re the worst kind of blood traitor,” he growled. 

“Making threats in front of Aurors?” The second Auror said, shocked. 

Draco, still feeling wild, punched Nott in the face with a right hook. “We need to go,” he insisted to Hermione. 

“Side-along with me,” she told him, holding her elbow out to him. 

“We’ve got everything covered here,” the first Auror said. 

Draco threaded his arm around her elbow, and they were off, back to St. Mungos. 

~

When they arrived at the apparation point, Draco took off at a run. He could heard Hermione behind him, running as well, and yelling, “Make way! Official Ministry business!” making Draco’s time easier as he avoided colliding with the scattered witches and wizards, and likely was more effective than his own barking – startling – yell would have been.

Ron and the other Weasleys noticed him right away as he came up, and looked as though they had questions. Draco wasn’t about to stop. He ran through them and right into Harry’s room. 

“I have the antidote,” he announced, catching his breath. The lead Healer approached him right away and took it from his hand. She performed scans of it, read the inscriptions on the label, and nodded her head – saying, “We’ll just have to try it, then. They have no other options.” Draco looked to Harry and Ginny and could see how right she was. Their blue color deepened further as they gasped in breaths, the attending help getting tired as they resperated them. 

She popped the cork and administered the prescribed droplets into Ginny’s mouth first, and waited. Sher breathing eased immediately, though not completely. She continued to improve over the next few minutes, and then Harry was given his own dose. Draco let out a long, deep breath of relief. Hermione put a firm hand on his shoulder, and looked at him encouragingly. 

“You’ve done it, Draco,” she told him. 

All of a sudden all energy left him with his relief, and he moved to a chair and crashed down into it. 

“I’ll bring in the children – they’ll want to see,” Hermione said, and left for a moment. 

Draco watched Harry intently as he improved. His own breath slowly easing as theirs did. 

~

When Draco eventually stepped into the hallway, now satisfied that everything was alright, to make room for more visitors, Hermione and Ron pulled him aside. 

“Are you alright, Draco?” 

He nodded that he was. “I…I’ll be fine.”

“You really care about Harry, don’t you?” she prompted. 

Draco struggled not to cry, still feeling raw. “I do,” he said low. It occurred to Draco that he might be in love with Harry, and he could see in his friend’s faces that they were thinking the same thing. 

~

When everyone else had gone home, Draco sat at the side of Harry’s bed, holding his hand between both of his. He hasn’t woken up yet, but they were hopeful that it would be soon. 

The door opened, and Hermione and Albus walked in, both taking in Draco and Harry. “Albus would like to stay a bit longer. Would you mind bringing back to school in a while? I have to get back to the Ministry myself.” 

“Of course,” Draco said, sitting up and letting go Harry slowly, and conjuring a seat next to his and turned to be at his mother’s side, since Draco took the one already in the room. Albus took it, still looking curious. “I’ll stay about another hour, if you’re alright with it Albus?” Draco asked. 

“Yeah, that’s fine, thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” Albus replied. 

“Draco,” he said, and Albus nodded. 

Hermione left, satisfied with the arrangements. 

“So, you and Dad really seem to...” Albus started. 

“Yes, it’s…something special. I hope you can…”

“Yes! It’s…fine.” They were silent for a few long moments, then Albus asked, “So, what did you do to get the antidote. No one that knows will tell me.”

“Oh, you know. Busted into Nott’s house, knocked some heads.”

Albus laughed. “You really did, though, didn’t you? I’ve never seen anyone that pissed off in my life!”

“I was…out of my mind, yes.”

“For Dad’s sake.”

“Yes.” 

“That…says a lot.”

“You’re a good man, Albus.” 

“Am I?!”

“It’s a rather mature view. But not just mature. One that many adults wouldn’t ever arrive at. One I appreciate a great deal.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t accept just anyone,” Albus said, smiling a little. “You know, you can…act naturally, with me here. Like you were before I came in.”

Draco pat his shoulder in acknowledgement and then leaned forward toward Harry and held his hand. When he rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand, Harry stirred, and groaned. “Harry?” he called. Albus came over right away and sat directly on his bed. 

“Dad?”

Harry opened his eyes slowly – focused on Draco first, and then Albus next to him. “What?”

“You’re in St. Mungos.”

“What?”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Harry thought. “I was attacked. Ginny!”

“She’s on the next bed,” Albus told him. “She hasn’t woken up yet, but she should soon. Wait, should I get someone?” 

Harry looked at Ginny, concerned. 

“Just ring the bell, Albus, and someone will come,” Draco answered. Albus rang the bell next to Harry. 

“Was it a curse?”

“Yes. A new one. You should be alright now. How do you feel?”

“Been worse.”

“Well, that’s not a lot to go by.”

Harry laughed. “Not too bad, really.”

A Healer came in and proceeded to check him out thoroughly. Albus stepped away to give her room, and seemed to be lost in thought for a while. 

“Did you get to the part where you knocked some heads?” Albus asked Draco excitedly when he stepped closer again. 

“What? What did you do, Draco?” he asked, as if he suspected Albus of exaggerating but wasn’t actually sure that he was. 

“It was Nott that attacked you. I knocked the wind right out of him, and then punched him in the face.”

“He figured it out and got the antidote for you!” Albus exclaimed. 

Harry was taken aback, and then he laughed hard, until he groaned in pain. 

“Careful, your lungs have been through a lot. You’ll be short on breath very easily until you fully heal.”

“Don’t worry, I’m an excellent patient.”

Draco scoffed in good humor, then smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco’s mother was waiting for him, dozing on the couch in the entryway, when he got home. He remembered now that he gave her a rushed “Harry’s been hurt!!” before leaving for St. Mungo’s. He met her as she stood, blurted out the night’s events, and she guided them to the sitting room as he talked, her face full of concern, and held his arm comfortingly as he went on. And when he was done, she hugged him tightly, and he was so grateful for it. 

He broke down, and when he gathered himself again, they talked about all that might come from it. 

~

Draco was visited by the Aurors early the next morning. The one was Harry’s second in command. She held a no-nonsense air as she asked Draco for his account of what happened the night before. Draco didn’t know the other Auror. Draco recounted it all smoothly in the way that he, Hermione and the Aurors at the scene had invented in the moment. Neither Auror seemed to disbelieve his account, but they weren’t very sympathetic to him either. It worried the blond at least a little bit. He was mostly certain he was safe from arrest for assaulting Nott – Hermione announced her responsibility for him afterall. But a lifetime of suspicion is difficult to shake. 

When she asked what he and Nott had whispered to each other, he gave a vague accounting of Nott’s taunting about Harry, and Draco’s pressing to get an antidote. And he had little choice but to admit to punching him – twice. 

He thought about he and his mother’s musings – whether Nott would press charges against him. They didn’t think it likely, because if the Wizengamot dug deeper – asked Draco to speak under veritasemum, or hand over his recollection for a pensieve, it wouldn’t turn out well for Nott either. 

After half an hour of questions, when things seemed to be drawing to a close, Draco asked, “Am I under arrest?”

“No, Mr. Malfoy,” she answered, in the same tone she used throughout, and got up. The younger Auror shook his hand and thanked him for his time, and turned to leave. She shook his hand as well, and gave him his first glance at her true feelings - a small smile and knowing look, now that the other was turned away. Draco smiled slightly back, gratefully - trying not to look to sly about it. 

~

By the evening, Harry was in Malfoy Manor, sitting up in his bed. He was released on the condition that he was in someone’s care for three days. Draco was delighted to get the flue call. Not only because Harry was recovering, but because Draco was “the one” he thought to ask to stay with. 

“Get some rest,” Draco told him, standing next to the bed. 

“I can for a while, but then I’ll be flue-calling the DMLA.”

“Alright. Consider my study yours.” He then called a house elf and asked that he promptly get Harry anything he should need if he calls. He agreed immediately and popped away again the same time that Harry began to thank him. 

Then Harry leaned back on the pillows, settling in a bit, and Draco climbed into the bed beside him and leaned back as well, fully slack for the first time since all of this happened.

They rested in silence for a few minutes when Harry said softly, “Thank you, Draco.” The blond looked at him. “For all of it. For having me here, and making me feel so welcome, and rushing to see me last night, and…for saving my life…even though it was dangerous. You risked your life, your reputation, your freedom…for me.”

A lump rose in Draco’s throat, more and more as Harry talked. “There was no way I could stay back in St. Mungo’s when going might make all the difference. I was out of my mind, and it doesn’t really feel like it was a matter of choice at all.”

Harry laughed. “I think…I know the feeling.” Draco smiled back. He’d been focused on their differences only the day before. But what about their similarities? The things they understand about each other that not many people could. “But, don’t downplay it, alright? You did this tremendous thing and I needed to thank you, and you needed to hear it.”

Draco sat up in bed and faced him fully, prompting Harry to sit up as well. “It’s because…I did all of that without a second thought because…I love you,” he told him sincerely. 

“Draco I…” Harry burst out, then paused, and thought, and laughed a little, looking at him again, “I love you, too.”

The blond’s heart hammered hard, over and over, elation spreading over him. He confessed his love to him without thinking about whether it would be returned. He had just needed to say it. But he did return it, and he felt overjoyed and belatedly panicked at the same time. The panic faded quickly. Draco grabbed his face and kissed him with all that love pouring of out him. Harry kissed back in answer – slow, and deliberate. 

They kissed for long minutes - until Harry broke away and coughed, and winced. “Sorry.”

Draco shook his head. “Are you alright?” Harry said he was. He was still healing. That was why he needed watching in the first place. Concern washed through him, and he was reminded of what he brought. The blond pulled out a wristwatch from his pocket and showed Harry. “Here, this can let me know if you aren’t well.” 

This wristwatch did tell the time, but it also alerted the safety of the wearer to the one that wore the other. Around the face of the black and gold (real gold, thank you) watch were the words, “Well”, “Ill”, “Imperiled”, and finally a small gold skull that meant ‘Dead’ without it being so distasteful as to say so. Draco explained what it was and showed that he was already wearing the other. 

Harry took it in hand and examined it, not seeming to know what to make of it. Endeared and confused and frustrated. 

“So that I can go about the manor and not worry,” Draco explained. “Just for a few days, while you’re in my care.” 

Harry’s expression resolved to endeared. “Ok, then, thank you.” 

When Harry wasn’t resting over those three days, he was kept busy talking to Aurors and letting Draco take care of him far more than was strictly necessary. Until finally, the watch on Draco’s wrist ticked much closer to “Well”. 

~

Draco apparated to Harry’s door, large tray of dinner for the both of them, prepared by Poppy, in hand, and knocked. Harry answered a minute later with a small but genuine smile and let him in. Draco looked him over. He dressed today, which was good, but looked just as tired as ever. 

It had taken three days for Ginny wake up, and two more before she could leave St. Mungo’s, and the guilt has been eating away at him ever since he went home. He didn’t mind as much that he had been a target. What he minded immensely, though, is that Ginny was caught up in it. This guilt extended to Draco too, he knew. Draco was threatened with vengeance for defying the old ways. Draco wasn’t that worried though. Nott was in Azkaban, and there wasn’t anyone else with any teeth left outside of the prison to worry about. It didn’t stop Harry from blaming himself though.

And what’s more, Harry started to question whether he wanted to continue on in his job. He’s been officially recovering these past weeks, but then his return date came and went a week ago, and he never went back to work. Ginny was doing her own healing, first with family, then with that journalist friend of hers. She’ll be off at her new job next week. 

And so they would make visits: Draco, Hermione and Ron, the other Weasleys. 

“What do you have there?” Harry asked. 

“Chicken casserole, the best there is,” Draco replied. ‘And easy to eat the leftovers,’ he didn’t say. 

Harry portioned some out for them in the kitchen and they ate on the couch instead of the dining room, as Harry has preferred of late. 

There was an aura of grief around him. A feeling that Draco could understand, but not for the reasons Harry was feeling them. 

While they were eating, Draco recounting his day to Harry, who mainly listened during the meal, and then they put their plates on the coffee table. And in the silence, thinking it was time to give Harry a push, Draco said, “When I lost Astoria, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I knew for a long time that that day could come, but there was no preparing for it.”

“Draco,” he half-protested helplessly.

“All the little expressions, inside jokes. Sharing our successes – and our failures. Were gone... Ginny is not gone in the same way, but she’s gone for you nonetheless. And it must hurt terribly. And then on top of that, you both nearly died. It’s no easy thing, Harry.” 

He didn’t speak for a long time. Then, “Yes, I suppose it is all those things that keep me frozen in place. And now I wonder why I even do what I do. It felt right for a long time. I’m good at it. But now…”

Draco waited for him to finish his thought, but he didn’t. So he said, “You don’t owe anyone anything, of course. You’ve given more than enough. If you’re going to stay on, do it because you want to.”

“It’s harder now, somehow, than before. It’s like…as I got older, I recognized the dangers more clearly, and imagine the losses so vividly, and it’s frightening.”

“It is frightening. It’s because you have a family, and you’d do anything to protect them. I feel the same.”

“I thought you were gunna tell me to go back to work,” Harry admitted. 

Draco struggled for what to say next, and found it. “I want to tell you do to something. It doesn’t have to be your work. You don’t need to work at all, you know.”

Harry looked like he’s never considered that before. 

“You can do anything you want to do, just don’t do nothing. Do what you’re inspired to do. What made you want to be an Auror? And then the Head?”

“I liked helping people. And…it seemed to fit...you know.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know. My heart doesn’t feel fit for it. At least not right now.”

“Perhaps an extended vacation can be arranged?”

“Maybe.”

“What would you do in the meantime?”

“I have no idea,” Harry sighed out. 

“I’ll take a break, too. You’ll figure it out. Maybe in the process, your heart will get in it again – or it won’t, and that’s alright.” 

Harry looked at him, unsure. 

“Think it over.”

~

A week later, Harry was out and about town again, and in much better spirits. He officially put in for a long stint off, and as his Boss, who happened to be Hermione, saw how he was struggling, she agreed - on the single condition that he speak with his first in command, who would be his replacement while he was away. He didn’t even have to go to the Ministry to do it. 

When Harry told him, he hugged him tight and kissed him. And when he cupped his cheek, Harry responded with a little moan that made Draco’s blood run hot. Harry had been understandably thinking of other things until now, and this was the best reaction he’s gotten from him since the attack.

Draco smiled mischievously. 

~

The two were having a stress-free dinner at Harry’s when Franco, his number one knocked on the door. Draco sipped his wine as the two spoke quietly yet urgently at the door. Harry’s tone took on some urgency, and then a resigned quality and then the door shut again and Harry sat down. 

“Theodore Nott was released. His case thrown out for all the complications of your and Hermione’s involvement.”

Draco was incensed. “You’d have died!”

“I know. You did the right thing, don’t question that. But it also had the consequence of looking like favoritism within the Ministry.” 

Draco also knew that Hermione suffered politically for it all. Department heads that didn’t like it drumming up dissent (mostly the old guard attempting to claw back their influence). But she didn’t regret her decisions any more than Draco did. Even if it cost her her job if it came to it. Thankfully though, her job seemed secure. The next election, however, was less of a sure thing than it was before. 

“Should we worry about Nott?”

“No – he’s quite shaken up this time, I’m told. He’ll be keeping his head down.”

Draco was glad it hear it, but knew there would be more to it. “At least not overtly. There’s the political side of things.”

“I’ll leave that to you. As long as he doesn’t try that spell again, I would be happy.”

“I’ve been thinking about all that. I…may be the one to sink the Malfoy’s after all,” Draco said with weight. 

Harry searched his eyes. “And are you alright with that?”

“Yes, I’ve known for a while now that it could happen this way. And...there’s no benefit in placating them – reversing and towing the line. It would just delay things a little longer, until it fell to Scorpius. And…I really don’t see him bending to their ways. So, I won’t leave it all to him. If it’s my decisions that got us here, I’ll bear the consequences.”

Harry took in his words, then looked at him fiercely. He moved in and held the back of his head and kissed him passionately. Draco could feel a resonance between them. Then Harry pushed his tongue into his mouth and kissed him more deeply, making the blond’s head swim. When he pulled away, he locked eyes with him and said, “I know it’s not easy for you. Even though I don’t get it myself – I know it’s not easy for you to give it up. I know it means something to you, and so I’m sorry. And..I couldn’t be prouder to be with you.”

Draco was shocked, and beyond flattered. Butterflies seemed to flutter all around his body. “I don’t know what to say, I…that means a lot to me. Coming from someone like you…”

“’Someone like us’, you mean. I only even did the same as you. Not stand still when I had to move.”

“Now who’s downplaying things?” Draco asked.

Harry smiled at him. Then said, bringing the conversation around, “And if you’re compared with others that have sunk their names - someone like Sirus Black, well, then you’re in good company.”

“He was your godfather, right?” Harry nodded, and it was clear from Harry’s expression how he loved him. Then Draco laughed in realization, “he was taken in by a Potter, too.” 

Harry laughed, too. “Best friends.”

“You can go back to admiring me now,” Draco teased. 

And after he smirked, the reminder sent real admiration into Harry’s expression. He kissed him again, and didn’t pull away this time. He grasped the blond’s bicep and squeezed, pulling him in closer. Harry bit his lip, making him moan into his mouth. He did it again, then he trailed his mouth over to the soft skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and sucked gently. “After dinner, I’ll make sure to admire you properly, Harry said against his neck.”

“I’m actually quite done with dinner…How about you?” Draco breathed. 

Harry bit harder on his neck as he sucked on it again. “I’m finding it’s not dinner I’m hungry for.”

Draco smiled. “Well then, did you have someplace in mind?”

Harry kissed his mouth again for a long moment, and when he pulled away this time he had a delightfully wicked gleam in his eye. He held onto Draco tight and the blond felt the familiar tug of apparition. 

A moment later, they were both sitting on a snowy hilltop – light snow falling all around them. Draco could see Harry’s town below, the lights from the houses casting a faint glow against the snow so that when the blond looked at Harry he could just make out his face – his wide grin that make Draco smile back, taken. 

Draco felt the bite of the cold for the first time, too preoccupied until now, and the winter wind casting about his hair that he’s let stay loose today. He could feel the way Harry was taking him in – like he was someone precious and beautiful. It made his cheeks even hotter than they would have been to fight the cold alone. 

Draco cast a large warming charm over the both of them – an invisible bubble of comfort against the elements. Some of the breeze was still there, and the snow landed on them still, but not nearly so frigid. Then he looked at Harry again. At the way the snow stood out against his dark hair, the pink in his cheeks, the way his grin turned hungry. 

Harry leaned in and kissed him. His mouth hot. Draco didn’t feel the cold at all anymore. His hands roved slowly up his chest, his fingers grazed his neck, and he buried his hands in his hair. “You’re taking your appreciation of me quite literally, aren’t you?” Draco managed to say. 

“I am,” Harry agreed. “And there’s a lot to appreciate. This is going to take some time to do it ‘properly’.”

Tingles rushed through Draco at his words, the heat in his voice – making the trail of his hands and mouth even more potent. As his thoughts descended into a heady haze, he vaguely realized that he shouldn’t have expected Harry to remain charmingly off-kilter when it came to sex for too long in their relationship. Or that their give and take would stay so playful forever. That of course Harry would find his footing. And of course he would flip the script. And course…Draco was thoroughly seduced in this moment by every word and gesture and touch – and he loved it.

Harry conjured a training mat behind Draco – black and with some thickness to it. He leaned him back onto the mat, and sucked on his ear. Draco dug his hands into his hair as he moaned. Harry kissed his jaw, and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He trailed kisses and bites down his chest as he opened his shirt. 

Snow fell on Draco’s face, but the blond barely noticed. Harry cast a barrier overtop of them to stop the snow from falling on them. 

When Harry parted the material of his shirt, he sucked his nipple into his mouth – bit slightly. Draco arched a little and grabbed at Harry’s back. Fingers digging lightly into his skin through the material of his sweater. Draco pulled it off of him, Harry helping and clearly loving the effect he had on the blond, and taking the opportunity to get Draco’s shirt off all the way. Harry immediately set his mouth to his other nipple, and pinched the first between his fingers. Draco immediately dug into his bare skin with a groan.

Harry’s kisses trailed further down his body, down his abdomen, and Harry peeled his trousers and underwear down his legs and off of him, Draco lifting himself helpfully – feeling a burning need to be bare for him. Harry stood on his knees to get his own clothing off – to match Draco in nakedness. And Draco eyed him, spreading his legs apart enticingly, throwing his arms over his head. 

Harry’s already hungry look took on a wild edge that sent a thrill through Draco. He’s never looked at him quite that way before – and he loved the implication, the promise it held. 

“Draco,” he ground out with an edge that matched the look.

“Harry,” he called back in counterpoint. He was sure the way he said it showed just how much he wanted Harry do to him all the things he was promising. 

Harry loosed himself, and was on Draco in an instant. The blond loved the sturdy weight on him, the greedy kisses, as they wound their arms around each other – roved their hands over each other. Harry rutted against him, and their aching cocks ground against each other. Draco felt both relief for their closeness, and a bone-deep desire for more. 

They both breathed heavily through their kisses. Draco wrapped one leg around Harry as he ground back against him, and Harry grabbed his arse, kneading with his hand. He broke away just enough to slick his fingers with a spell, and ran his fingers around Draco’s waiting hole. He massaged the rim, then pushed one finger inside of him. Then another, occasionally grazing against his prostate. 

“Fuck, I need you,” Draco murmured against his mouth, getting impatient fast. 

Harry smiled wide and wild. “I need you, too. Need to be inside you. Need you so much.”

Draco groaned loudly at his words. “Fuck. Fill me up. Now.”

Now Harry groaned – a deep rumble that went straight to Draco’s dick. Harry fingered him harder as he continued to rut against him, and spread his fingers out, reducing Draco to a mess of desire. 

“Now,” Draco repeated. 

Harry removed his fingers and lined his cock up with Draco’s hole. Draco wrapped his other leg around him as well. They looked at each other, and Harry pushed in. “You feel incredible,” Harry told him, as Draco reveled in the feeling of being filled by him. 

“So do you.”

Harry kissed him, and at length began a slow rhythm, scratching that itch that’s been driving Draco wild. They gained speed, and Harry took his hand, pushing it into the mat with interlocked fingers. Draco liked the intimacy of his holding his hand, while also being pinned down. Harry did the same to the other hand, tracing his hand down the blond’s arm until their hands interlocked – and pinned him to the mat. 

Draco sighed into his mouth, then kissed him more urgently, plunging his tongue deep into Harry’s mouth. Harry held his hands more firmly, making Draco writhe under him. Harry smiled and pushed his arms up over his head and held him there by the wrists. Draco writhed, and arched, and gasped in response. They quickened their pace, and Draco was unravelling. 

“Harder,” Draco told him, moving his legs higher around Harry, and stretching himself taught. Harry adjusted his grip on Draco’s wrists to keep him taught, and slammed harder inside him, making the mat under them slide along the snowy ground until Harry cast a hasty sticking charm. Harry freed one of his hands, using one arm to pin both of Draco’s wrists, the muscles on his arm flexing, and wrapped the other around Draco’s dick, pumping him, making the blond gap. 

Draco’s breath hitched with every thrust now, his head tilting back more and more. Mouth half open, eyebrows knit tight. Harry snapped his hips and Draco cried out in pleasure. After a few more thrusts, he did it again to the same reaction. 

Draco’s being was coiling more and more, wound impossibly tight. So tight he was a little afraid to set it loose. It coiled, and coiled, and coiled. 

“God, you look gorgeous in the snow,” Harry told him. 

The coiling in Draco sprang free. Draco cried out loudly, writhing, and came hard in Harry’s hand. Spurting over and over as Harry prolonged his pleasure with his rolling thrusts, and moving hand, and his saying, “You really do.” 

Harry kissed him and renewed his thrusts. Harry hasn’t come yet, and Draco wanted it to be just as good for him as it was for the blond. He flipped them over so that he was on top, and Harry looked up at him surprised and pleased. Draco rode him with a sensuous roll of his hips, kissed him with his arms around him, and squeezed on his cock. He gained speed quickly.

Harry groaned wildly. “How are you doing that?” he asked. 

Draco took Harry’s hands and placed them on his hips. Then he rolled again, more slowly, looking at him hotly. “It’s all in the hips.”

“Oh,” Harry said. Then was quickly overcome again, closing his eyes. Draco picked up the pace again. Rolled. Flexed. And Harry came, with a loud groan, inside him. Draco kept moving, more slowly, until Harry was spent. 

Draco lay beside him, letting his utter exhaustion set it. For once, he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move either. 

Harry looked at him and laughed. “You ok?”

“M…more than ok,” he managed to say. 

Harry got them to his bedroom, and Draco’s head lay on Harry’s chest in the aftermath. Still, neither of them was talkative.

Until, Harry said, “I’m going back to work tomorrow.”

And here Draco was thinking he couldn’t possibly be more content…Sometimes it really does just take a little push to do the right thing, he mused, and hugged Harry.


End file.
